Deathstroke: Every Man A Quotation
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: The arrival of Gideon Wilson and Bastiaan de Vries to visit their respective children brings headaches for Slade, revelations for Meg, and epic spoilage for Grant and Angel … and that's before Oliver and William's arrival.
1. Prologue: Unexpected Connections

Author's Notes: Fair warning: I've been a hockey fan since I was nine years old, and we're in the playoffs, so you may hear about hockey. Especially since my Cardiac 'Canes eliminated the Washington Capitals in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs on Wednesday night-in double overtime. This is the first time they've made the playoffs in ten years, and we beat the reigning Stanley Cup Champions. I am still in shock … and beyond proud of them. Their PR director put it beautifully on his Twitter account … 'Three months ago, they said we were out of playoff contention. Three weeks ago, they said we'd get swept in the first round. Three days ago, they said the series was over after 6-0. Three hours ago, we knocked off the Stanley Cup Champions.' We have two games in New York against the Islanders. We won in overtime again last night and play on Sunday, so the boys won't be coming home just yet. This is the playoffs, so anything can happen, but even as we hope to make it to the finals and bring the Cup back to Raleigh, a number of us recognize how far we've come … and will still be proud of our Bunch of Jerks even if the Islanders end up winning the series. Onto the story. So, here we have the opening chapter of '_Deathstroke: Each Man a Quotation_,' the third story in the series which began with '_Deathstroke: Crossroads_.' And in this prologue, Mayor Jacob Butler reflects on the changes in his town since Slade Wilson's arrival … and all the other changes promised by his presence, even as Jacob himself is revealed to be far more than what he appeared to be; Dory Webster returns from St. Louis with an old friend; while Gideon Wilson and Bastiaan de Vries make their way across the eastern United States, bickering all the way. Of course … do you really expect anything else out of these two? In addition, they learn of a tragic event connected to the unexpected death and miraculous rebirth of a woman.

Disclaimer: Slade and Grant Wilson, Oliver and William Queen, the Merlyn family, and Shado don't belong to me, nor does anything else you recognize (and those seven _should_ be the only _Arrow_ characters who show up). They're the property of DC and the CW (although the characterization of Grant here does belong to me). However, Destine and its inhabitants, plus their respective out-of-town family members, do belong to me. Don't mind if you borrow them, just ask first and return them intact.

Prologue

Unexpected Connections

Destine, Missouri

Early February, 2018

Mayor Jacob Butler sat in front of his computer, re-reading the email from his brother mayor. Ordinarily, he'd be with his grandson on a day like today, but Zach was with his mother (Jacob's daughter) in the city, enjoying the new dinosaur exhibit at the convention center (Jurassic Zone was what it was called, or something like that). Jacob would have liked to join them, but duty called, as it often did. The situation was resolved, but it was too late for him to head to St. Louis to join them, so instead, he was tying up some loose ends he hadn't had a chance to take care of during the week. And now, he was taking the opportunity to re-read and respond to emails.

Over the last few weeks, since he'd first received the email from the young mayor of Star City, Oregon … one Oliver Queen … seeking to establish a sister city relationship with Destine, he'd exchanged many such missives with the other man. By now, he knew that Oliver had a young son, William, who just lost his mother, and that his little sister was ten years younger than he was. He also knew that as Star City was considerably larger than Destine, they had certain problems for far longer … problems that Destine was now starting to develop.

It was his hope that the new youth center … previously an abandoned warehouse … would alleviate some of those problems. But that would only take care of the lost children … his concern was also for those seeking to cause trouble, not for attention, but because they enjoyed the chaos and destruction. Who, in the words of Alfred in one of the _Batman_ movies, just wanted to watch the world burn. He had some idea of what to do about the lost children. But the ones who wanted to watch the world burn? How did he begin to fight back against that?

He didn't know. But he hoped that the sister-city relationship with Star City would help. He would respond to Oliver's email later. For now, he had other paperwork that needed his attention. Including the change of the name of the warehouse to the Stephen Carvalho Memorial Youth Center … the 'memorial' was evidently a last minute addition, as it was penciled in on the paperwork. That was fine … it was penciled in and initialed. According to the update he'd received from Father Rick Gillmore, who'd been helping on the project, it seemed likely they'd open the first of April. Over the last few weeks, working in concert with Slade Wilson and Meg Carvalho (Jacob ignored the pang of guilt that always accompanied the woman's name now), Father Rick often offered work on the warehouse as community service for some of those lost children (and sometimes lost adults) who weren't bad, but really had no purpose. And there was much clean-up to be done. It seemed that after the warehouse was abandoned back in the nineties, it was used as a dumping ground for … many things. Including human remains. Then again, given the proximity of St. Louis to Chicago, maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised.

Jacob turned his attention next to the sheets of paper that followed the name change. That wasn't strictly necessary, but it seemed Father Rick convinced Wilson that it would be helpful. He understood why a moment later … the paperwork contained the staff of the youth center. While Wilson was the owner, Meg Carvalho was listed as the Center Director. Jacob sat back, focusing on his breathing. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel right now … relieved that after rolling down a hill he pushed her down (however reluctantly), she landed on her feet? Aggravated that she hadn't told the Saturday night dinner club what Wilson was doing? Resentment because … hell.

Jacob rested his forehead in the palm of his hand, sighing. He'd done the right thing, he knew that. The people whom he allowed to remain at the law firm, they were all far more vulnerable than Meg. But it didn't stop him from hurting. A soft voice from the door to his office observed, "I see you've gotten to the warehouse name change." Jacob looked up quickly to find Dory Webster standing there. She offered him a gentle smile, adding in a language that hadn't spoken by living people in centuries, save for some priests and villagers in remote areas, "I told you when things seemed to fall apart that everything would fall into place. I didn't know how or when, but I knew it would happen. Meg is where she should be … at the youth center, by Slade Wilson's side. And even her time working at the retirement home is bearing fruit."

"I still don't like it, sister. I don't like manipulating people," Jacob answered in the same language. Dory arched a brow … that remained a bone of contention between them (no pun intended), and Jacob added, "And where have you been? The last time I saw you, it was the same day as the warehouse raid, and you said you'd be back in a few hours. It's been weeks, Sevi'anna." That wasn't, strictly speaking, her name … but it was the closest translation that could be made into English. And Jacob, who was once the youngest brother of Sevi'anna in a time modern civilizations called 'prehistory,' only ever called Dory Webster by that name when he was worried or angry. He wasn't exactly sure what he was right now.

"I had to go to St. Louis, to pick up Rebecca Merlyn. Something pulled her from the afterlife and shoved her soul into the body of an Ecuadorian doctor. She had a minor meltdown in the airport, and has needed some time to really adjust to … everything. She needed me far more than you or anyone else did," she answered. Jacob stared at her in shock … he knew, of course, who Rebecca Merlyn was. He also knew that she died more than twenty-five years earlier. Dory added, looking worried, "And we still don't know if what pulled her out of the afterlife is benevolent or not."

Jacob had been aware that a threat was rising, a threat now just to Destine, but to the entire world. But to hear that a force was capable of pulling the soul of a woman dead for over twenty years (nearly thirty at this point) and putting her in the body of another woman? Dear Lord. How would they be able to face this? Even if the being who took Rebecca Merlyn from the afterlife was benign, Jacob's experience in the modern era and during his first life told him that there had to be an equal opposing force, which meant they would get caught in the crossfire. Not good. Not good at all.

And then his brain caught up with the rest of what his sister told him. He asked, "How is she? More to the point, who is she now?" While the spirit of the woman was Rebecca Merlyn, she had the form of an Ecuadorian doctor, and she had to be experiencing some serious confusion in her new body. And that was probably an understatement of Biblical proportions. Dory sighed and walked further into his office, sinking into the chair opposite him. She looked exhausted.

"Her name is Dr. Veronica Morales, and up until a few weeks ago, she worked at a Doctors Without Borders camp in Aleppo, Syria. She was badly injured in an attack and during the fight to save her life, Veronica died. She died as Veronica and was resurrected as Rebecca. As if that wasn't bad enough, she has many of Veronica's memories … it seems some of the doctor's spirit lingers. And, to make things even more interesting? Veronica knew, and was friends with, one Margreet Anderson Carvalho," Dory answered.

Meg again. It seemed like she was at the center of so much, and he had to wonder why. She was a nice enough lady (and Jacob was self-aware enough to realize that he was the one preventing himself from reaching out to her in the wake of the mess with the law firm), but no one special in terms of the big picture. Then again, maybe her connection to Veronica Morales was a coincidence. That was the least terrifying possibility out of many. He didn't believe in Chosen Ones, or destiny … if only because people chose their own destinies, and this business of Chosen Ones put a huge burden on the shoulders of such people. He asked, "So, what happens now?"

Dory shook her head, murmuring, "Rebecca will lay low for a while. She's not ready to deal with people just yet, not after dealing with airports for the better part of three days … and being, you know, dead before then." Jacob had to give her that. He knew from his visits to the diner that Rebecca had company in the form of her son and Shado … but that was different from life on the physical plane, which had far more noise and unpleasantness. His sister added, "And as for myself, I need to get back to the diner. Where have you guys been eating while I was gone?"

"Giselle stepped in and appointed herself the social director in your absence. I take it you want a status update on what's been going on around here?" Jacob asked and Dory stuck her tongue out at him. Jacob rolled his eyes … mature, big sister, he thought, real mature. However, he began, "Okay, so, I've told you about the supper club. What I didn't tell you about, and what you may already know, is that there's a dinosaur thing going on in the city, at the convention center. You may have noticed it while you were there. It's not an exhibit at a museum, but an animatronics display. I think it's called Jurassic Zone, or something like that. Anyhow, Laura took Zack to it. Apparently, you can 'pet' the dinosaurs. I'm expecting an extremely hyper ten-year-old when I meet them for dinner tonight."

He didn't even bother with telling her about the warehouse and what was going on there. There was more to Destine than that, and he would start with the people he loved most in the world … his only child and her only child. In the end, that was why he went along with turning the warehouse into a youth center. Zack was ten now, but he would grow up … and he might end up needing that youth center in a few years. He had Laura and Jacob now, but as Jacob well knew, anything could happen. If, God forbid, something happened to him or Laura (or worse, both), Zack would need a safety net. And now? He would have one.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

O'Hare Airport

Chicago, Illinois

Approximately the same time

"What did you tell your daughter about the delay?"

Bastian de Vries made a face as he and his partner made their way to their gate. Their business in Philadelphia took far longer than he or Gideon Wilson anticipated … and this time, it had to do with their museum cover, rather than their actual business in the City of Brotherly Love. He was still fuming about it, truthfully, but as Meg's surrogate mother Sissy put it, it was what it was. He answered dryly, "I told her the truth, since the delay was caused by our cover, rather than our true purpose."

Gideon chuckled, answering, "Oh, no, my friend … it's your cover, not mine, I'm just along for the ride, remember?" Bastiaan offered the filthiest look he could manage, making the other man laugh again. Ugh. Why were they friends again? More to the point, why was he inflicting this man on his innocent daughter and even more innocent granddaughter? Because like his son (when Slade was sane, that is), Bastiaan had to admit, Gideon was their best chance at staying alive in light of the chatter they'd heard recently. Something was looming on the horizon, and it was taking aim at the American Midwest. Whether it was a terrorist attack or something more … esoteric … remained to be seen.

"Keep telling yourself that, old friend … just keep telling yourself that," Bastiaan retorted. As they reached their gate, Bastiaan took note. The previous flight hadn't yet left, which meant they had a great deal of time. He asked, "Shall we get something to eat? I know, the prices are far higher, but we have a long time before we board, much less take off." As a general rule, he tried to avoid buying souvenirs or food inside airports, as they had a captive audience. Sometimes, he had no choice … he remembered one particularly memorable mission in Thailand, not long after Stephen's death, during which time he didn't have the chance to buy anything for Meg or Angel whilst they were in the city. He'd not wanted to return empty handed … and the Bangkok airport was his only opportunity to buy anything. Oh, he supposed he _could _have stopped at one of the many vendors in the street market as he and Gideon chased after someone who supposedly had ties to an arms dealer they were trying to take down (they never found out the truth because this alleged tie was killed before either man could reach him … which led both agents to believe that such ties did, indeed, exist). But he wasn't the sort of man who abandoned his mission or his partner. And so, he bought a bolt of silk for his daughter and a wooden carving of an elephant for his toddler granddaughter.

His daughter would have understood if he'd come to St. Louis empty-handed, of course. Things happened. But she'd just lost her husband, and while his gifts couldn't bring Stephen back, they could (and did) make her smile. That made it worth it. And Gideon still hadn't answered him. Bastiaan looked at his partner, who was studying the TV thoughtfully. Bastiaan elbowed the other man lightly and Gideon murmured, "Did you hear about the attack on the Doctors without Borders camp in Syria?" Bastiaan thought for a moment before shaking his head, and Gideon went on, "A very interesting story. Not because of the attack itself, tragic though it was. No, a friend of mine who works undercover running supplies to the camp told me that one of the doctors, a young lady from Ecuador, was badly injured during the attack. Under normal circumstances, it would have required some time to heal … but during the surgery to repair the damage, her heart stopped. There was no medical reason for it … but her heart stopped."

Bastiaan found this mildly interesting, but hardly worthy of stopping in the middle of a crowded airport. However, he nodded to Gideon to continue. The other man did so, explaining, "Because her heart did stop, because she died on the table however briefly, that set her recovery back. She was evacuated, along with others, to Turkey. My friend was the driver who evacuated them. Now, all of this happened several weeks ago. Take a look at the news report." Bastiaan tipped his head back … and his eyes widened as he beheld the report … and the devastation. He looked at his friend, whose expression was grim. Gideon inclined his head, saying softly, "The camp was hit a second time, mere days after the evacuation of Doctor Morales and the others … and this time, everyone remaining was wiped out. But it's just now coming out?"

"A cover-up? Have you heard nothing from your friend?" Bastiaan asked very softly. He didn't think there was a cover-up … at least not of the governmental variety, not when the annihilation of a Doctors without Borders camp, and all of its patients and staff, made for such a lovely political weapon. And judging from Gideon's expression, he was thinking the exact same thing. But what else was there? And what was the tie to Veronica Morales? Glancing around him, to make sure he and Gideon weren't in anyone's way (it didn't seem so, though the exhausted travelers simply stepped around them if they were in the way), Bastiaan removed his mobile from the inside of his jacket and quickly typed a text message to Valentina Auer.

"Not a cover-up … but someone didn't want whoever worked on Veronica Morales to talk. And no … my friend was reassigned not long after Dr. Morales' evacuation, something he found suspicious as well. And you? Are you checking in with Valentina?" Gideon asked and Bastiaan nodded. It could be something, or it could be nothing. And, it could be that Valentina already had people heading to Aleppo to investigate. Until he heard otherwise, he was heading to St. Louis to see his little girl, just as he planned. It seemed that Gideon agreed, for he said with forced lightness, "Well, before I saw that report, I believe you said something about getting something to eat. That sounds like an excellent idea. So, do we want local or international?"

"Local … give our bodies time to adjust to the change," Bastiaan observed and Gideon smirked. Bastiaan just rolled his eyes. Honestly, why did he put up with this man?

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: In case you're curious, the Aleppo event isn't the mission for the story. It's a result of Rebecca's rebirth in Veronica, and may be expanded upon in a later story, but this story is about the convergence of Gideon, Bastiaan, and Oliver in Destine, and the fallout that results (especially for poor Slade, as both Oliver and Gideon have plenty of stories to share. Then again, Slade and Bastiaan have stories of their own). There will be bridges built here, because those bridges will be necessary in later stories. Also, with regards to _Jurassic Zone_ … there is a traveling exhibition, for lack of a better word, called _Jurassic Quest_. It's billed as a dinosaur park and dinosaur museum. I attended one day when they were in Fayetteville, and my inner ten year old was beside herself with joy (what? Only boys like dinosaurs? Not hardly!). As mentioned, it involves animatronic dinosaurs, including baby dinosaurs that you can pet. I didn't do that, because there were actual children in front of me, and they were more important. There are also vendors, fossil digs, dinosaur rides, and in the basement of the expo center (which is also where the Fayetteville Comic Con is held), there was a 'habitat' set up with probably fifty dinosaurs. It was awesome and I'd love to go to another one, but the most recent one in Fayetteville conflicted with the Raleigh SuperCon. There's more than just Jurassic Quest, so I made up one as well. Also, I've just about decided to include my own variations on the flash-forwards in the last section of each epilogue. They're more teasers than anything else, leading up to the main eruption in the present day in Destine.


	2. Chapter 1: Questionable Choices

Author's Notes: I am in shock. My beloved Cardiac 'Canes, our dear Bunch of Jerks ™ (Don Cherry can kiss our Southern behinds) swept the New York Islanders, 4-0. Friday night marked franchise history … until nearly forty-eight hours ago, we'd never done that before. And now, we're going to the Eastern Conference Finals … first, though, we have to wait to see who wins the Bruins/Blue Jackets series. That's fine, though. Gives our guys time to recover from their injuries, although one of our boys is out for a few months due to a shoulder injury. Other news … this chapter marks the first update of this story with my new laptop. My old one had been deteriorating steadily for the last year. I finally was comfortable with the money I needed to buy a new one, found one with the specifications I needed, and got to Wal-Mart early yesterday morning to buy it. I spent most of yesterday getting acquainted with it. So, this chapter … this chapter sees the arrival of Bastiaan de Vries and Gideon Wilson at Meg's home; Rebecca struggling with panic attacks and her conflicting feelings about her husband; and there are surprises for several characters … not necessarily good surprises, either.

Chapter One

Questionable Choices

Destine, Missouri

Early February 2018

Fifteen year old Angeline Carvalho laughed as she chased her current quarry around the yard. She didn't have a hose this time, but that was all right. She didn't need a hose to chase Grant, especially with the recent cold snap. Honestly, there were times when she understood Aunt Lindy's comment about Mother Nature being off her meds! This was one of them. The cold air felt good against her face. She, her mother, Grant and Slade spent the better part of the day, cleaning up the room over the garage in preparation for her grandfather's arrival. The room was all cleaned up … but it exhausted her mom. She'd recovered fully from her concussion, but tired easily. Slade steered her into the living room, calling over his shoulder that he was leaving Angel in charge of Grant. Really, that was standard operating procedure nowadays.

Not that Angel minded … she'd always wanted a little brother or little sister, and as Grant's anxiety eased, he was turning out to be a lot of fun. Oh, he still had bad days when he didn't want to let his father out of his sight, but as long as Slade, Angel, or her mom were within his line of sight, he didn't have a panic attack. Oh, and, distracting worked really well for him, also. Like what she was doing right now.

In another few minutes, she would take him inside, so he could get a shower … so they could both get showers. Mom hadn't decided what they were doing about dinner yet, in part because Angel's grandfather liked to take them out to dinner. He tended to avoid Dory's, because Nina tended to flirt with him. On the other hand, Dory had been closed for the last few weeks, due to a family emergency … at least, according to the sign on the front of the restaurant. Angel hadn't known that Dory even had family outside Destine, but just like her mom said, you never knew about these things (she also said it was none of their business).

Grant's energy was starting to flag when an unfamiliar car pulled into the driveway. The boy stopped moving and stood at Angel's side (even though she had the sense he would have rather been hiding behind her). She wasn't worried. She'd caught a glimpse of the driver as he pulled into the driveway, and she'd recognized him. Angel put her arm around Grant, giving him a reassuring little squeeze. A few seconds later, the car came to a halt, and her grandfather emerged from the driver's side, another man emerging from the passenger side at the same time. Opa beamed at her, saying, "Angeline, mijn engel! And who is this fine young man?"

"Hi, Opa … this is Grant Wilson. He and his father are staying with us," Angel answered … and noticed the Look that passed between her grandfather and his companion. She wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it was important. When Slade began teaching her self-defense, the first lesson was how important observation was. Assume nothing. She teased with a faint smile, _'assumption is the mother of all failure_?' That earned her a smile and a ruffle of her hair, as he acknowledged that was the case. Before you could make the bad-ass move, you had to observe your opponent … self-defense was as much mental as it was physical.

Also at Slade's urging, she was talking to the high school counselor about what happened. '_You_ _don't want to end up like me, kiddo_,' he'd said, his remaining eye haunted. Angel kept her thoughts to herself … it seemed to her that growing up to be like Slade wasn't so bad, bout with insanity aside (and her mother agreed with her about this, although Angel knew that Mom worried about Slade a lot), but she suspected he wouldn't enjoy that statement. Just as she suspected that her grandfather wouldn't entirely approve of a scary bad-ass ex-soldier living here with his traumatized son.

However, her grandfather said only, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Grant. You share a last name with my friend here. This is Gideon Wilson, and he works with me." Now Angel was getting a funny feeling. The other man's last name was Wilson, a common enough last name, but then there was the way that Opa and this Gideon Wilson looked at each other when they heard Grant's name. Opa went on, "Is your mum inside?" Angel kept her arm around Grant's shoulders, feeling the way the boy tensed up. Most of the time, she thought his protectiveness of her mother was sweet. Right now, though, with two strangers (even if one was her opa), it could get dangerous. Mainly to Grant.

"She is. Hopefully taking a nap, since we spent the entire day working on the spare bedroom over the garage. Grant's dad took her inside a bit ago," Angel answered as she gave her grandfather a one-armed hug, never releasing Grant. Again, a Look passed between her grandfather and the other man named Wilson, and as Opa released Angel, she noticed him making hand signals to his friend. For the first time, Angel felt uneasy … but this was her Opa, and she knew that he adored her mother, just as she knew that the sun rose in the west.

"Well … let's go inside, and we'll endeavor not to wake her," Opa answered, wrapping his arm around Angel's shoulders, even as Grant clung to her waist. The four began walking to the house. And despite herself, despite everything both Slade and her mother told her about behaving normally in an abnormal situation, Angel couldn't stop looking at her grandfather and the man named Wilson, and the way they interacted. It … it reminded her of how Slade and Father Rick interacted, now that their priest understood that Slade wasn't going anywhere for a while, and the best thing to do would be to accept it and work with him. And for the first time, Angel began wondering if her grandfather really _did_ work for a museum.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Journey's End Motel

Just outside Destine, Missouri

Same Time

Rebecca Merlyn sat up in bed, torn between amusement and disbelief. She'd been dead for nearly thirty years and soaps were still the same, just the names had changed. Not that there were many soaps remaining on the air these days. She remembered watching a few of the defunct ones in the last few months of her pregnancy with Tommy because she'd run out of reading material, and her dear, over-protective husband had taken to staying home from work to be with her. Watching soaps was the only way to get a few moments to herself, because Malcolm couldn't bear to watch them.

Truthfully, Rebecca didn't so much like them as prize the hours of solitude watching them gained her. She loved her husband, but he was really bad about getting underfoot while she was pregnant. And, they'd watch other things together, later in the evening, Rebecca tucked securely against his side, Malcolm's arm draped over her and their unborn son protectively. Where had that man gone? How did her wonderful, protective, occasionally silly husband turn into … into the Dark Archer? She hadn't understood it as it played out in front of her, and she still didn't understand it. Oh, to a point, she saw it … her death left him unmoored, in ways she never considered. She could have understood (and maybe even forgiven) his rage against the Glades. He'd wanted her to move her clinic a few blocks, so that it was on the edge of Glades, rather than right in the middle of that section of town, but still easily accessible to the people she was trying to help. But she'd insisted, and he bowed to her wishes.

Shado said, not long before Rebecca was returned to the mortal coil, that it came down to three things: Malcolm couldn't forgive the shooter or the people who wouldn't help her; he couldn't forgive himself for not answering her call; and he couldn't blame her. And those three things tore him apart. Something Rebecca could see and understand … but that didn't explain why he turned away from Tommy. To some degree, she could forgive him for the Glades. It was far harder for her to forgive him for Tommy.

Before her death, there was never a father and son closer than Malcolm and Tommy. How many pictures had she taken of them after they both fell asleep … Tommy curled up in his father's lap, Malcolm's arms wrapped protectively around their only child? And after … she just didn't understand it. Had his drive for revenge overwhelmed even his love for his son? It made no sense to her. It would never make sense to her, and she wasn't sure if Malcolm himself understood the reasons why.

Not for the first time, she wished she talked to Shado more, but Tommy had needed her … needed them both more … and Shado's circumstances with Slade Wilson were far different. While Slade's actions were his own, they were influenced by outside forces, namely the Mirukuru. The monster who laid siege to Rebecca's home wasn't the real Slade Wilson, not the man who looked after Oliver Queen and taught him to fight, not the man who sacrificed his way home to save that young man. She couldn't say the same about Malcolm.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Dory poked her head inside, asking, "How are you? Have you tried to leave the room today?" Rebecca shrugged. That was an ongoing problem for her. She was starting to get cabin fever, but every time she tried to venture out of the motel room, she had a panic attack. Today, she'd decided to try to take Dory's suggestion … to walk from the room to the soda machines. _Start small_, the older woman suggested, _don't try to do everything at once._

And really, it was stupid that she was having panic attacks. She'd been through far worse, after all. She observed, "I managed to get to the soda machines … then spent ten minutes getting my breathing under control. What would have taken me five minutes tops before … well, before, took me twenty minutes today." The compassion in Dory's gaze forced her eyes away, back to the tv, before she added in a deliberately light voice, "So. Tell me how your trip into town went? I'm guessing it's still standing?" Dory rolled her eyes at that.

However, she evidently decided to indulge Rebecca's desire not to talk about what she was experiencing, and said, "Not only is the town standing, but I talked to your son." For some reason, Dory could only talk to the rest of their afterlife family while she was in her diner. Rebecca wasn't sure how exactly that worked, but there you had it. Dory paused, as if not knowing how to say whatever came next, before explaining, "Malcolm's awake … and his rehabilitation has begun."

Rebecca stared at the other woman for a long moment, not sure how to feel about that, how to react to Dory's statement. Because that was what it was, a statement … there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. At last, Rebecca rose to her feet and went to the window, trying to work out how she was supposed to feel, how she was supposed to react to this piece of news.

She also wasn't sure how to react to Dory's certainty that her husband's redemption was at hand. There were so many times, before Lian Yu, when Rebecca believed that … only to have her hopes dashed away. But Malcolm's willingness to die for Thea (when his actions led to Tommy's death) … she still wasn't sure what to feel about that. On one hand, she was glad Malcolm finally put someone else before himself. On the other hand … even if he'd known that Tommy went to the Glades for Laurel Lance, he wouldn't have stopped his Undertaking. He truly was willing to sacrifice their child, supposedly in her name, but in truth, for himself.

At last, she turned to face her friend, asking, "Are you sure about this? This isn't … this isn't a feint, a way to get what he wants?" And oh, how Rebecca hated having to ask that about someone she still loved, would probably love for all of eternity, no matter how angry she was with him. But Dory's eyes reflected only compassion. Rebecca wanted to believe her friend, wanted to have faith in her husband once again … she just wasn't sure she had the strength for that any more.

"Tommy is positive," Dory answered simply and those three words … were all she needed to hear. Rebecca stumbled over to the bed, sinking down onto it once more and burying her face in her hands. Tommy, the person whom Malcolm really hurt most, more than Oliver Queen, more than Thea, more than even those lost souls in the Glades … was positive. That could only mean that he was seeing signs of the man he'd known before Rebecca's murder, signs of a man who died at the same time Rebecca herself did.

There were muffled footsteps, then Dory was kneeling beside her, her arm around Rebecca's shoulders as the younger woman fought once more to bring her breathing under control. It wasn't another panic attack, but it was worse in its own way, because something was wanting to claw its way out of her throat. Whether it was a scream or a cry or something else, she wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure what she was feeling. Was she happy or sad or angry or overjoyed, all of them or none of them?

"Shhh … breathe, sweetheart, just breathe. Listen to me … you did not fail Malcolm. Tommy didn't fail him. He failed you both, and now he's seeing how badly. Sometimes … sometimes, it takes an outsider to make us see. That's what she did. She told him that there were hundreds of Rebeccas in the Glades whom he failed, and that's when he started to understand. He has to accept that … not just that he murdered over five hundred people, including his own son, but that when it was all said and done, he did it for himself, not for you. She's stripping all of his defenses away, all of his excuses. You couldn't have done it, and Tommy couldn't have done it, because in a twisted way, he was trying to protect Tommy from what he'd become."

Rebecca did look up then, heedless of the tears streaming down her face, and asked hoarsely, "You believe that? That Malcolm shut Tommy out because he was trying to protect him, in whatever weird made sense to how badly his mind was twisted?" Dory grimaced and settled herself more comfortably on the bed beside her. With just a gentle tug, Rebecca was leaning into her side, resting her head against Dory's shoulder. A gentle hand carded through Rebecca's hair, and the younger woman closed her eyes against the tears.

"Not exactly how I would put it, because that makes him sound more noble than he actually was. There was a certain amount of protecting self as well," Dory acknowledged, "but I also think that there was an element of wanting to protect Tommy, because it wasn't your son's responsibility to save Malcolm, and on a certain level, he understood that. Saving him wasn't Tommy's job, it wasn't your job." Rebecca hummed at that. Both women fell silent, because there really wasn't much to be said.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me, that I still love him, even after what he's done, to our son, to Ollie, to the Glades, to Robert and Thea and to so many others? Am I wrong to still love him?" she asked softly after several moments. Dory huffed and withdrew, just enough for her to look at Rebecca. She wiped Rebecca's tears away with her thumbs, just like her mother used to do when she was a child.

"Sweetheart, I think I'd be more worried if you didn't still love him," Dory answered, kissing the top of her head. It wasn't her experience that love worked that way. You didn't stop loving someone because of what they did. Assuming they were reunited, could Malcolm and Rebecca stay together? That was another question entirely … just because you loved someone didn't mean that you had a future with that person. They both changed … Malcolm emotionally and mentally, and Rebecca changed physically. The two women sat together in silence for several moments, until Dory said, "C'mon. Walk with me to the car, and I'll tell you about what's going on in town." There was a slight hitch in Rebecca's breathing, but she bobbed her head lightly. Baby steps. Baby steps would get them to where they needed to be.

DSDSDSDSDS

Destine, MO

Home of Meg & Angel Carvalho

This … was a very interesting development. That was all Bastiaan de Vries could think as his granddaughter … and Gideon's grandson … led them both into the house. They had landed nearly two hours earlier, but this leg of the trip had quickly turned into what his daughter would have called a Murphy's Law Trip … everything that could go wrong, did. First, the cabin door didn't want to open. Then, once it did open and the exhausted, frustrated passengers began making their way into the terminal, it became clear that they were sent to the wrong baggage carousel. Once that was straightened out, many people discovered that their luggage was left off the airplane. Fortunately, Bastiaan and Gideon only had one piece of luggage a piece … and they learned years earlier to make sure they had at least one or two days of clothes in their carry-ons, just in case. Not everyone was that lucky. Then again, at least someone hadn't hit the wrong button and retracted the skybridge. That would actually have been disastrous.

On the other hand, once they reached the car rental booth, they found a line a mile long (not really an exaggeration) and while they didn't have a specific time table, neither man much enjoyed waiting in lines. As it turned out, the vendor was having technical issues with their computers, and the poor girl who was operating them was getting more and more flustered with each passenger. Fortunately, as maddening as he often found the other man, Gideon was also very good at putting people at ease … the girl was almost in tears when they reached her, and by the time they had the keys to the car in hand, Gideon was making her laugh.

They would have to return to the airport the following day, because the exhibits for the museum would be coming in on a later flight, but for now, they were both glad to be out of the airport and away from cities, even for twenty-four hours. None of that resolved a very important question … why hadn't his daughter told him that Slade Wilson and his younger son were staying with them? Yes, true enough, Meg had no reason to suspect that he was familiar with the younger agent, but while she'd told him that she had a boarder and his son staying with them, she'd never mentioned the man of the man. Which Bastiaan found very suspicious indeed … although, judging from the way Gideon's grandson kept looking at him, the boy found him to be just as suspicious. And wasn't that strange to think about … the anxious little boy in front of him was Gideon's grandson. But even without hearing the child's name, it wouldn't have surprised him … Grant closely resembled his father at the same age.

Gideon murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, "So, your daughter didn't tell you that my son and grandson were staying with them?" Bastiaan very slowly shook his head. It wasn't that Meg told him everything. He was fairly certain that his daughter didn't even tell Chloe everything. It was the idea that someone as dangerous as Slade Wilson was anywhere near his innocent daughter that made him uncomfortable. Of course, the idea that his Meg wasn't nearly as innocent as he wanted to believe made him even more uncomfortable. Just as the sight in front of him _really_ made him uncomfortable.

Sitting together on the sofa were Meg and Slade … Meg's head resting on Slade's shoulder, and Slade's cheek nestled against Meg's hair. Quite unnecessarily, he thought, his granddaughter murmured, "They're both asleep." Yes, they did notice that. According to Meg, she'd only had a boarder for a few months … how had she come to be so comfortable with Slade during that time that she was comfortable with falling asleep against his side? And if he'd been thinking, he would have dissuaded Gideon from what his friend did next. But he wasn't thinking, and neither was Gideon, because they both knew damn good and well that Slade had PTSD from the island (and other things). And one of the worst things you could ever do when dealing with a person with PTSD was surprise or startle them. Wake them up? Even worse idea.

The older man murmured, "Oh, they won't be for much longer." Angel turned to face him, fully prepared to warn him not to wake her mother, but before she had the chance to do so, Gideon bellowed at the top of his not-inconsiderable lungs, "SLADE JOSEPH WILSON! What do you think you're doing, young man?" Slade's reaction was swift and devastating … he instantly woke up and spun to face them, reaching for a weapon with one hand and sweeping Meg behind him with the other.

But it was Meg's reaction that took Bastiaan's breath away, because Slade's reaction was expected, but hers was not. As she landed on her bum behind Slade, she grabbed the nearest item … which happened to be a paperweight that Stephen gave her as a souvenir from New York City, and bounced immediately to her feet, fully prepared to do battle. As soon as their respective parents were up, Angel was shoving Grant to the ground, shielding him protectively. Meg was the first to recover, gasping, "Dad? What the hell? Slade, are you all right? Angel, Grant, it's okay."

"That remains to be seen," his granddaughter grumbled, but helped Grant to his feet, before rounding on Gideon, snarling, "And who are you to come into our house and act the fool!" Her mother's soft '_Angel_' had the teenager growling at Gideon again, before putting her hand on Grant's shoulder and gently steering him to their respective parents. Gideon looked a bit nonplussed by being called on the carpet by a fifteen year old (and, presumably, everything else that happened during the last few minutes).

"My daughter may have spoken out of turn, but her point remains. I don't know who you are, and why you're with my father, but you're in my home now. And I will not tolerate such rude behavior, especially since both my friend and his son have varying forms of PTSD. As it is, you're damn lucky all either of us had was a paperweight and … a pencil. On the other hand, Slade, I have a feeling you could probably kill someone with a paperclip," Meg chastised. Now Gideon's jaw was slightly ajar. Not that things would improve before too much longer.

"Oh, I know exactly who he is, Meg … may I present Gideon Alexander Wilson. A senior ASIS agent, and my father. It would appear that our fathers have been working together for some time," Slade Wilson answered and Meg pivoted to look up at Slade, before turning her attention first to Bastiaan (and oh, her expression didn't bode well for the first private conversation) and then to Gideon. If anything, she looked even more displeased with Bastiaan's friend. But Slade wasn't finished, adding mockingly, "And father, this is Margreet Theodora Anderson Carvalho, her daughter Angeline, and my son Grant."

Meg swatted his shoulder, muttering, "Stop using my full name, you know I don't like it when you do that." Both Gideon and Bastiaan blinked at that, while Bastiaan noticed his granddaughter rolling her eyes in exasperation as she and Grant parked themselves behind their parents. Meg turned her attention to the two spies, sighing, "Well, we're awake now, thank you very much. After the stunt you two just pulled, I'm tempted to make you sleep in the basement, but that's not fair to Slade and Grant to have to move their things. Angel, I need you to start lunch for me. Grant, go with your father."

She didn't tell Slade what she needed him to do … but apparently, that wasn't necessary. Slade put his arm around the boy and gently steered him outside once more, while Angel made her way into the kitchen, leaving the two agents alone in the living room with the very annoyed civilian, who happened to be Bastiaan's first-born child. And she was being very, very quiet … not a good sign. While his elder daughter tended to be quiet as a matter of course, there was quiet and then there was '_shit, run for the hills and don't look back_,' as his younger daughter so elegantly put it on more than one occasion. And right now, Meg's expression bore a closer resemblance to the latter than to the former.

She finally said in a very quiet voice, "I honestly don't care that you don't really work for a museum, Dad. I don't. If I've learned anything from Slade, it's that sometimes people who work in the shadows to keep the wolves away have to lie to their families, for their own protection in more ways than one. But what I will not tolerate is someone coming into my home and behaving in such a way, especially not to someone whom I actually invited … someone who even now struggles with trauma. I'll let you figure out if I mean your son or your grandson. Now, as soon as Slade gives the go-ahead, I'll take you both up into the room over the garage and you two can work out who gets to sleep where. For now, I strongly recommend you stay out of my way and out of Slade's."

She glowered a few minutes longer at Gideon, whose expression was sheepish. Now he figures out that barking out like that to a sleeping man wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do. Not for the first time, he wondered how it was that someone so lacking in common sense managed to survive so long. Perhaps sensing that she'd made her point, Meg returned her attention to Bastiaan himself, her face softening. And seeing that expression, Bastiaan took the five steps separating him from his oldest child and drew her into his arms. She returned the embrace, murmuring, "I'm so glad you're here, Dad. I have so much to tell you."

He hoped how Slade Wilson came to live with her was at the top of that list. However, considering what his partner had just done, Bastian had the sense that making any sorts of demands on his daughter was a big time no-no. He reluctantly released her, but quickly cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, something that never stopped making her smile. With one last glower at Gideon, she murmured, "I'll check in with Angel. Make sure she's okay." Bastiaan let her go, watching her stride into the kitchen, and then turned to face Gideon.

"It would seem, Bastiaan, that your daughter isn't nearly as boring as you wanted to believe she was … her reflexes are uncanny," the other man said. Bastiaan offered his partner his best '_are you_ _kidding me right now_?' look and Gideon added, more than a touch defensively, "Well, really, did you see how she immediately reached for that glass paperweight? She could have easily hurt either one of us with that thing."

"Oh, shut up … what in God's name were you thinking, waking your son up like that? If Meg's reflexes were impressive, then Slade's were even more so! He's trained, and she isn't!" Bastiaan hissed. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, trying to forget the image of Slade Wilson shoving Meg behind him protectively, fully prepared to defend her with whatever he had available … even if it was just a pencil. He added, still rubbing his face, "And that wasn't a glass paperweight … that was lead crystal, which is much heavier … and pointed. If my daughter decided to throw that, it could have killed either one of us."

Gideon just blinked at him, and Bastiaan shook his head, muttering under his breath in Dutch. All he wanted when he came here was to spend some time with his little girl and her little girl. In the end, he was walking into what all law enforcement officers, of any level, hated … a domestic. And because if he didn't get out of this room, he would use that lead crystal paperweight on his partner's hard head, he added, "I'm going to help my daughter and granddaughter in the kitchen … try not to alienate your son and grandson more than you already have, hmm?" Gideon was still staring at him in shock when he left the room. _Idioot_!

TBC

Dutch Translations:

Mijn engel: my angel


	3. Chapter 2: The Quiet Sentinel

Author's Notes: The spring semester is in the books. Summer session started on Saturday, and we're still clearing students, but the spring semester is over and we're now in flex time. Unfortunately, my Cardiac 'Canes were swept in the third round of the playoffs … but considering we were in the basement in January, I'm damn proud of what the boys accomplished this year. A lot of cool stuff going on right now, but I'll get to that another time. For now, we have the new chapter … which is a touch shorter than I would have liked, but these things happen. So. Onto the story. In this chapter, we have Gideon reflecting on his screw-up; Meg and Slade sussing each other out; and we check in with Oliver and William, who are headed east, and William has some very specific questions for his father. Oh, and … aside from Samantha and Thea (maybe Moira, too), there will be no references to women in Oliver's life. This is about Oliver and Slade's bond, and the friendship that develops between William and Grant. In other words, there is no Lauriver, Olicity, or Canarrow. Hopefully, this won't be a disappointment, but I'm trying to avoid cluttering the story.

Chapter Two

The Quiet Sentinel

Carvalho Home

Destine, Missouri

All right, on a scale of one to ten, that qualified as a fifteen for stupidity. Maybe a twenty-five. In his own defense, it was his first time seeing his son in such a long time. He knew Slade didn't remember it … it was on Lian Yu, during a time when Slade's system was purging itself of that damnable drug, and his poor boy was suffering so. Director Michaels told him as much when she allowed him to visit. She kept an eye on him, because of her friendship with Oliver Queen … and she hadn't forgotten Gideon's own assistance on more than one A.R.G.U.S. op. Slade was a mess, face wet with tears and sweat, his hair and beard matted. He only barely recognized Gideon, thinking his father to be a hallucination, and oh, the words his little boy spat at him broke his heart. The hardest thing for a parent wasn't realizing that his child had grown up and didn't need him any more … no, the hardest thing for this parent was the knowledge of just how badly he failed his child. And unfortunately, this was common in the Wilson family.

He'd kept his son wholly out of his work whilst Slade was growing up, instead telling the boy that he ran an import/export business, and no, Slade couldn't come with him, such trips weren't for children. He never expected his son to lie about his age and join the Australian army at the age of seventeen. Maybe he should have. His son was a protector at heart, standing up to bullies from the age of seven, no matter how badly he was hurt as a result.

And then began the series of events that drove a wedge, tearing apart their already tenuous relationship. His marriage to Slade's mother fell apart rather spectacularly. Oh, he'd stopped loving her long before then, but he'd made a promise, and he believed in honoring that. Unfortunately, his wife didn't see things the same way … and because she could be a spiteful crone, decided to destroy his relationship with their son (the only saving grace in the whole mess was that she also ended up destroying her own relationship with Slade … if that could, indeed, be called a saving grace), starting with telling him the truth about Gideon's work.

And, of course, she had to choose a time when Slade was already vulnerable … his first meeting with Rose Kane and her older sister Adeline, and the older sister's seduction of him. Slade was always a smart boy and quickly came to realize that several events in his childhood that caused him grief (especially the loss of his younger sister, who would have also been Rose) resulted from his father's line of work. He was angry with Gideon for that, and with his mother for telling him when (and how) she did.

Of course, Gideon trying to interfere in his son's career didn't help, either … and meddling in his marriage was even worse. Unfortunately, he saw too many similarities between his ex-wife and Adeline Kane. It was a running joke between himself and Bastiaan that all men married/dated the same woman, they just came in different packages. However, where Adeline was concerned, it wasn't much of a joke. She had the same capacity for bitterness that Lydia had. Just as Lydia never forgave him for the death of their unborn daughter, Gideon wasn't entirely surprised that Adeline couldn't forgive Slade for leaving on that final mission to Lian Yu … and, it seemed, just as Clarissa Anderson never forgave Bastiaan for returning to the Netherlands, leaving her alone and pregnant. Never mind that she never told him that she was pregnant (hmm, a recurring theme here).

Clarissa's daughter seemed to be cut from different cloth entirely from what he could tell of his limited interaction with her … without actually having met the woman, relying only on Bastiaan's accounts, it seemed that Margreet Theodora Anderson Carvalho was more her father's daughter than her mother's. While she hadn't had any of Slade's training, it impressed Gideon far more than he was willing to admit … he noticed that the girl's immediate reaction upon gaining her senses was to grab a weapon when he woke her and stand at Slade's side. Skills could be taught … courage and honor could not. It remained to be seen if she was in fact courageous and honorable, but things looked promising at the moment.

What wasn't so promising at the moment? The way his youngest grandson looked at him, for one thing. It said oh so plainly, '_you hurt my father and I don't like that_.' He was inured against Joe's dirty looks. But Grant's? Oh, that was a different story. The little boy trotted back into the house, glancing anxiously over his shoulder … ah. He wanted to make sure that Slade followed him back inside. Gideon winced at the neutral look that his only child gave him, and said the first thing that popped into his head, "I've seen Joe."

And that got his son's attention in thirty seconds flat. Slade was heading into the kitchen, but wheeled around to face him at the announcement. Over his shoulder, Gideon saw Bastiaan and his daughter emerging from the aforementioned kitchen, and since he had his son's undivided attention, Gideon went on, "He was in Vienna, Austria … the last I saw, Valentina Auer had assigned him to clean up the crypt under St. Stephen as a disciplinary measure." Slade frowned, and Gideon realized that his son was missing a key piece of information … information that Bastiaan happily provided.

With his arm around his daughter's shoulders, Bastiaan explained, "The Jackals were not originally criminals or terrorists. They were formed nearly thirteen years ago, as a special unit that could go where ASIS or ARGUS could not. Valentina isn't just the station chief in Vienna, she is also the current head of the Jackals. Your oldest? By all rights, he answers to her. She was _not_ amused with his recent antics. So, as punishment, she assigned him clean-up duty in the crypt of St. Stephen … and that is as unpleasant as it sounds. Although, at least he doesn't have to clean up broken jars of organs." Angel immediately made a face, while Grant mouthed, '_oh_, _that's so cool_.' Of course he did. He was an eleven year old boy.

Gideon was having a hard time deciphering his son's expression … and showing either excellent timing or equally excellent observation skills, Bastiaan's daughter said slowly, "Thirteen years ago? Dad … you … you didn't, did you?" Well. That successfully distracted almost everyone from Slade. Whether it was meant to do that or not was something else entirely. And Bastiaan … well, Bastiaan's expression was almost comical. It was somewhere between '_oops, she picked up on the timing_' sheepish and '_that's my girl_' pride.

"I couldn't be there when Stephen died … or when you laid him to rest. And his death was an unfortunate accident, but how many other young widows … or young widowers … were going through the same anguish you were? I swore to myself that if I could prevent even one family from experiencing what you did, then that would be success enough for me. And so, working with Valentina, I created the Jackals," Bastiaan answered. Meg stared at her father for several moments, before throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Gideon glanced away from the embracing pair to look at his son … and found that same damnable empty expression on his face, making it so hard for him to read his child.

Of course, that was when Angel Carvalho sighed, sounding overly-dramatic as only a teenager can, "This lovey-dovey stuff is sweet and all, but everyone is ignoring the most important subject of all … what are we having for dinner?" There was a brief pause as the girl's words sank into everyone's brains, then Bastiaan began chuckling, Slade allowed himself a tiny smirk, and Grant giggled. Angel added, looking mock-offended, "Hey, I'm a growing girl, remember? And Grant's a growing boy!"

"That you are, dear heart … all right, normally we would go out to eat, but I don't think that's going to happen this time. Dory's is closed, and with the number of people we have … what?" Meg began when Angel began waggling her eyebrows at her mother. Oh. This should be interesting. Angel nodded to the calendar and with a confused frown, her mother looked in that direction … and then she began to smile. Uh-oh. Meg turned back to face them, asking, "How would you feel about spaghetti? I'd forgotten that tonight is a fundraiser at the church … our church, not Sissy's … everyone okay with that?"

The first word out of his grandson's mouth, naturally, was 'yippee.' Slade merely nodded and Gideon's partner-in-crime (sometimes literally) beamed. Angel smirked, "Guess we have a plan. Uhm, no offense, but whoever hasn't gotten a shower might want to get one. Just sayin,' you might be more comfortable, and we have time." She was very studiously not looking at Slade, who merely smirked right back at her in response. The girl's mother just rolled her eyes, giving Gideon the sense that this was something that happened quite frequently.

"Grant, honey, go ahead and get your shower. Angel, I don't hear the dryer going, can you check on that for me, please? Dad, this will take a few minutes, so you and your friends can make yourselves comfortable … Slade?" the woman asked. Angel headed in one direction, Grant in another, while Slade followed Meg into the kitchen, leaving Gideon and Bastiaan staring at each other with more than a bit of bemusement. Bastiaan looked away after a moment, muttering under his breath, 'flapdrol.' Gideon sat down, ignoring his friend. It was hard to imagine his driven son living here. It seemed so … mundane. He supposed he was expecting Slade to live in a somewhat larger version of what was nowadays called a 'man cave, a term Gideon found utterly ridiculous … and now there were '_she sheds_.' Really? Just … really?

But maybe mundane was what his son needed, given what he'd been through during the last several years. He thought, too, of the cell his son spent years in … and couldn't argue that this was far better. It might be a temporary sanctuary, while Slade and Grant became more settled together, but even temporary sanctuaries were preferable to none at all. Now Gideon just had to figure out a way to make things right with his son. Returning to Vienna and helping his older grandson with his punishment detail might actually be easier. But Gideon had never run from a fight and he wasn't about to start now.

DSDSDSDSDS

"This may be a stupid question … but are you all right?"

She hadn't known what she was going to say until she and Slade were in the kitchen, standing no more than three feet apart from each other. And she was fairly sure that it was a stupid question, but it was also the most important question on her mind. There was no doubt in her mind that Slade could take care of himself, but in the weeks since they found Grant, Meg came to realize that she was becoming as protective of Slade as she was of Angel and Grant. It was understandable with Grant … he was a little boy who'd watched his mother die. Slade, on the other hand, was a fully grown man, who could take down an opponent with ease when he wasn't trying to protect other people. He didn't need her protection. But those protective feelings remained, and she really couldn't help herself. It was just the way she was made.

And Slade just huffed a soft laugh, answering, "I'm fine. Not the first time I've been awakened that way." Meg had a feeling he didn't just mean his imprisonment, either time, on Lian Yu. His eye softened as he added, "I can't say the same thing for you, I'm sure … so I should be asking you that." Meg allowed herself a smirk. Oh, is that what he thought? She wasn't sure if she should tell him that he was wrong about that.

"I'm fine … a bit embarrassed. Maybe I should start keeping something more dangerous than a lead crystal statue on that end table. Yeah, I know it's dangerous if I brain someone with it, but I'm not sure how far I could have thrown it. Besides … it was a gift from Stephen," Meg explained. She was a bit startled when Slade's large, warm hand settled on her shoulder and his eye fixed upon her … not so much when her heart began racing. She was becoming used to this whenever Slade touched her. So far she hadn't embarrassed herself and behaved like she was her daughter's age … so far. That wasn't to say that it _wouldn't _happen. She never was particularly subtle when it came to being attracted to males, regardless of her age. And she was becoming _very_ attracted to Slade.

"Don't underestimate yourself … the fact that you reacted so quickly, that you were prepared to fight at my side? Skills can be taught … loyalty and honor can't," Slade answered quietly. His hand tightened on her shoulder. For some reason, and she hadn't figured this out yet, but for some reason, she was never able to lie to Slade. As a general rule, she didn't want to lie to Slade, had no reason to lie to him, but even little things, when he noticed that she wasn't feeling like herself … she'd admit what was wrong.

"I'm not so sure loyalty or honor had anything to do with it, Slade," she acknowledged, "I just knew that you'd been startled, and I … reacted as if we were under attack. I guess I have more internal scars from the whole warehouse situation than I realized." She mentally divided the months she'd known Slade into two categories … pre-warehouse and post-warehouse, because they both changed, and so had their respective children. Angel took to her new role as big sister like a duck to water, and while Grant still got … worried if Angel, Meg, and Slade were out of his line of sight for any length of time, he was doing better. He wasn't ready to go to school, not yet, but having Father Rick and Deacon Andy to talk to helped a lot.

Father Rick surprised her. She knew he had issues with Slade, but as it turned out, his issues had less to do with what Slade had done in the past and more with what he feared he'd do in the future. More to the point, he'd feared that Slade would just walk away after he found Grant. Neither he nor Deacon Andy were sure why he was staying, given Slade's leeriness of forming attachments, but they were both glad he was. So was she.

And he told her now, "Scars aren't a bad thing. They mean you survived something. And as I said a minute ago, don't underestimate yourself. You're a lot more than you think you are. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure my son hasn't drowned himself before I take my own shower. Angel's attempt at hinting … wasn't really necessary." Meg laughed at that, and swatted his shoulder as he left the kitchen, ducking the returning swat. In the two months since he began living with them, later joined by Grant, Meg slowly became used to having a man around the house once more.

Once he healed from the beating he'd received the previous month, Slade and Grant both slept downstairs, but they began working on the spare bedroom in earnest. When Stephen and Meg bought it, the plan was to turn the spare bedroom into a nursery. Things … didn't quite go as planned, and it had been used as storage for the last thirteen years. That was slowly changing. So was the basement, for that matter … and the attic. And now the room over the garage. Now there was an idea. She could have let her father have the attic room, and put Slade's father in the room over the garage. On the other hand, maybe not. He was older than her own father, after all, even if he had behaved like an asshole.

Well. She still had work to do before they left for dinner. She sent a text to both Deacon Andy and Father Rick, telling them to expect six, rather than four, as both her and Slade's fathers would be accompanying them. Her father. That … she needed to think about that. She meant what she said about being okay with him being some sort of super spy. It was something that she learned from Slade. It wasn't about lying to people, not really. It was about protecting the people you loved in any way you could. If she'd known that her father was some sort of super spy in Europe, would it have put her and Angel in more danger? It could have.

And her father created a special unit, because he couldn't save Stephen or prevent her heart from being broken by his death. He was probably on assignment at the time, and couldn't make it in time for the funeral … and because of that, because he couldn't be there for her, he chose to honor Stephen's death and life in another way, by ensuring that other families didn't go through what she and Angel did. He couldn't save everyone, he couldn't save Stephen, but he saved who he could … and that meant everything. Even if the people chosen to serve in that unit corrupted its purpose, that didn't take away from what her father did. Not even remotely.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Salt Lake City, Utah

Approximately the same time

"So … um … what do I call him? I mean, I know that you regard him as a brother, so do I call him 'Uncle Slade,' or something else?"

William Clayton Queen listed against his father's shoulder as they sat in the gate area of their flight from Salt Lake City to St. Louis. The flight was delayed (again), and while the gate staff was nice enough, he was getting tired of waiting. He wanted to be on the plane now, he wanted to be on his way to St. Louis (some place he'd never seen). When his dad told him where they were going, he encouraged William to look up what was there … and Will had done just that.

Dad slipped his arm around William's shoulders, exhaling a soft sigh as he thought about how to answer the question. And William thought it was interesting that he even had to think about the answer. He'd realized in the five months after … after they left the smoking remains of the island that his father and Slade Wilson had something of a complicated relationship. It was obvious, to him at least, that they really cared about each other. But things … happened.

William observed to his father at this that this seemed to happen to him a lot. Dad offered a short laugh in response, answering, '_kiddo, you have no idea_.' And Aunt Thea, when she woke up, couldn't offer any help in that area. She told him that she, and the rest of the group, had reason to hate Slade. But … then again, she had reason to hate her birth father, Malcolm Merlyn, and he sacrificed his life on the island to save her. She was quiet for a few minutes, before saying that she would probably never forgive Slade for what he'd done (including killing her mother, William's grandmother, in front of her).

But … but he'd remained in Star City for William's dad for five months after the island. Maybe … well. Maybe. And she let it go at that before hugging him and asking him to tell her about his mother. She'd never known her, and wasn't even a teenager yet when he was born. The only time Oliver Queen's sister and the mother of his child met was when Adrian Chase kidnapped them both to use against him as leverage. And that wasn't real conducive to getting to know someone. No … he wouldn't guess so. And neither said anything more about that.

Finally, Dad answered, "You know, for now, just call him 'Slade.' He'll tell you what he wants when we get there. Once he finishes telling me what an idiot I am." William blinked at that, and Dad tightened his arm, adding, "Slade is an overprotective mother hen of a brother. That means he isn't shy about telling me when he thinks I've screwed up. Think of it this way … I know you like the Flash a lot, so I'll use him as an example. Say you encounter someone like Zoom, and instead of going for help, try to take him on yourself. It doesn't go well, to say the least. Slade finds out, chews you out for being so stupid, and then proceeds to go after Zoom and kick _his_ butt. That's what Slade is like, once he decides you're his."

And William had come to realize, by now, that being Slade's didn't indicate possession, but devotion. And there were definitely worse things in the world than Slade Wilson deciding that you were his. He also realized that no matter how complicated and messy their relationship became (something Aunt Thea also explained about, including the Mirukuru), his dad never truly gave up on Slade, and while neither man would ever put it in these terms, he also never, ever, stopped loving him. And since Slade remained with Dad in the months … after … William was willing to bet the same was true of him.

Eventually, a few months after his dad came home from Kasnia, he did tell William a little more about what happened with Slade and his son, and how Slade found out about another son, Grant, who was around William's age. Dad was right. It wasn't a happy story, and Dad really wasn't happy when a member of his team commented that maybe Slade got what he deserved, after what he'd done to the city. Thinking of the quiet sentinel who stood at his father's side in those awful months after, before Aunt Thea woke up, William couldn't blame his dad.

He was on the point of asking another question, when their flight was announced. His dad grinned at him and grabbed his duffel bag, while William grabbed his backpack. Now came the final leg of their journey. In just a few hours, he would be in St. Louis, Missouri. He couldn't wait to see what it had in store for them.

TBC


	4. Chapter 3: Moving Forward

Author's Notes: So, first things first … congratulations to the St. Louis Blues for winning their very first Stanley Cup last week! And congratulations to sweet little Laila, who not only got to see her beloved Blues win said Cup, but actually got to touch and kiss it. See y'all next season … a little over three months from now. The NHL draft just concluded, and from what I've picked up, my Cardiac 'Canes got some great picks. Okay, so … I hit a rough patch with writing, but something pulled loose and Malcolm decided to remind me that he was here (as if I could forget him). So, in this chapter, we have Malcolm finally getting his head the rest of the way out of his hindquarters (and yes, some of it is old territory, but he has a lot of ground to cover); Angel muses over their unexpected guests; while Oliver arrives in St. Louis and is greeted by someone he doesn't realize he knows (yet. Give him time).

Chapter Three

Moving Forward

Somewhere in the mountains of India

Around five am local time

It was the fourth … or maybe fifth … time he'd woke up from a nightmare that night. By now, he was coming to expect it. Not used to it. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it, no matter how many times in a night it happened. He remembered what he was told, what he later told his daughter … pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Maybe he should have qualified that. Once you deaden parts of yourself that feel, whether physical or emotional, that was the case. But whatever healed him from the injuries he sustained on Lian Yu, also reawakened that part of himself he killed after his Rebecca was taken from him, from them. Call it his soul, call it his conscience … it was back and it insisted on showing him what he unleashed in the Glades, what his actions did to the people who lived there.

Too many times during the night, he awoke, fingers clawing at empty air, trying to dig himself out of a house that had fallen on him in his nightmares, his lungs struggling for breath. Too many times during the night, he awakened with tears on his face as he held someone he loved (his spouse, his child, his parent, his sibling) as they died. He knew better than to say anything to Kali. Every morning when he joined her in the common room for the morning meal, she eyed him knowingly. Once, she even let it slip that just as his past sins were haunting him, her own past sins haunted her. But that was all she would say.

By now, Malcolm Merlyn knew that they were somewhere in India, that months passed since he stepped on that land mine to protect the daughter he should have spent his life protecting, rather than plotting against the Glades, and that until Kali believed he was ready, he would receive no more information about where he was or what happened to him. For now, it was enough that he knew that Thea was fine, that Oliver had his son back, and that he once more found himself in a mountain fortress. Though this was the antithesis of Nanda Parbat, in so many ways.

Rubbing his hands across his face, Malcolm rose to his feet and headed to the basin of cold water that was one of the constants in his chambers. It was a simple room, really … what amounted to a cot, a small writing desk where he was to record his nightmares (all the different ways he died or saw people die in his dreams), and the basin of water, which was always cold. He splashed the cold water on his face, trying to pretend that this dream was no different from the others. But it was … God forgive him, it was. But he knew better than to let it cripple him. Instead, he went through his morning routine … splashing cold water on his face (as much to finish waking up as removing the evidence of the tears he'd wept in his sleep), followed by the katas he'd learned in Nanda Parbat when he first learned to fight.

Once his morning rituals were completed, he joined Kali in the common room. She was sitting alone at the main table, dark head bent. He quietly walked over and joined her. She looked up (dark circles under her eyes, which were red and puffy … it was a bad night for her as well) and offered him a brief, tired smile, before she returned her attention to whatever she was writing. Neither spoke. That was one of the rules … it seemed everyone who was here kept a journal of some kind, and if they were writing in that journal, you didn't speak until they were done. At last, Kali laid the pen aside and closed her eyes briefly. She looked exhausted, and since she'd closed her journal only seconds before closing her eyes, Malcolm asked softly, "Bad night?"

"One of the worst," she admitted, surprising him with her candor, "and what makes it worse is it wasn't one of my many sins. Well, it was, but indirectly. I share a … well, an unusual bond with my sister. We aren't twins, which is was makes it so unusual. She was on a mission when she was shot … and I felt her pain, her fear, her confusion, her horror when it happened. I don't usually dream about that day, but … but when I do, I can't go back to sleep. I've never written it down, because by the time I get up, too many details are lost. This time … this time, I got up. I've been up since three thirty this morning. I wrote it all down this time. All about her pain, her fear … all about my helplessness."

Malcolm didn't say anything, instead nodding to the young many who always served breakfast. That was another rule. You had to acknowledge the people who were taking care of you, in whatever form that took. They were here for the same reason you were, Kali told him, this was part of their penance, but that didn't make you entitled to their time or their attention. Malcolm usually didn't say anything (he usually didn't know what to say) … but he always nodded, at the very least. Sometimes, if he managed a few hours of unbroken sleep, he smiled.

At last, he said quietly, "Sometimes, I think that's what destroys us." Kali looked up from the fruit that was placed in front of her, and Malcolm continued, "That desire to never feel that helpless again, and not having a way to direct it. After Rebecca was killed …" He couldn't finish the sentence, because he'd screwed up _so_ badly. Not just the Glades, but Tommy. God, how could he have done that to his little boy? After his actions (inaction) led to Rebecca's death, how had he compounded things by shutting out his boy, Rebecca's greatest gift to him? And then, he had sacrificed his son to avenge his mother … what kind of a father did that?

Sacrificing himself for Thea … that didn't even begin to even the scales of what he did to her, what he did to Tommy. Thea, at least, was alive … and before she thought he died, he at least he told her that she mattered to him, even if he never showed it in the ways that mattered. Tommy? Tommy died believing that he wasn't important to his father … died knowing that his hatred of the Glades was stronger than his love for Tommy. And it was that knowledge that shattered the ice that accumulated around his heart over the last twenty years … the ice that pushed his son away, that led him to order his best friend's death, that condemned Oliver to years of hell.

He'd condemned so many people whom he loved by his actions and his inactions … Rebecca, Tommy, Thea, Robert, Moira, Oliver. Once again, that feeling of suffocation pressed against his chest … only this time, it wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream, but the consequences of what he'd done, what it cost him, finally registering in his heart. Even so, it was a surprise to him to feel wetness on his cheeks. Kali was staring at him in shock, but then her lips curved up in a gentle smile. She reached across the table to touch his cheek, brushing away a tear, and whispered, "Now you may truly begin to heal, Malcolm Merlyn … and become who you should have been all along."

DSDSDSDSDSDS

St. Louis, MO

Home of Meg Carvalho

Approximately same time

7:00 pm local time

"Angel, take over for me … I need to soak this skirt."

With those words, Meg Carvalho scurried into the laundry room only moments after arriving home and unlocking the front door, leaving the rest of her family looking at each other in bemusement. Angel rolled her eyes and led everyone into the living room. She observed, "Mom ended up getting some spaghetti sauce on her skirt. Yeah, that's what Aunt Lindy was teasing her about, telling her she should have known better than to wear a light colored skirt when eating spaghetti. Opa, Mr. Wilson, is there anything I can get for you?"

She didn't ask Slade, as he'd already found himself a seat on the sofa, and Grant dumped himself into his father's lap. He was likely to be quiet for a while … there were so many new people at the fundraiser tonight, and as much as he liked Father Rick and Deacon Andy, to say nothing of Aunt Lindy, there were a lot of new people he _didn't _know. Fortunately, there weren't many who approached and did something stupid like pinching his cheek … his _extremely_ intimidating and **very** protective father probably had something to do with that … but Grant was still uncomfortable. Opa answered, "Just coffee for me, liefje … Gideon, same?" Mr. Wilson nodded, looking at his son and grandson, and wasn't that weird, thinking of Slade as being someone's son? Angel bobbed her head and headed into the kitchen.

It was nice tonight … the more things like this they did, the more it felt like Slade and Grant were part of their family. In her most private thoughts, Angel sometimes fantasized about that, about having Slade as her step-father and Grant as her step-brother. Things changed since Slade arrived in Destine. People looked at her mother differently, and Angel was starting to realize that was because her mother changed as well. It wasn't the first time in Angel's memory. She'd changed after she lost her job. Angel mentioned that to Aunt Lindy once, who nodded sadly. She'd noticed that as well. Of course she did … she wouldn't have any teasing ammo against her mom without it.

Deacon Andy also commented on the difference in Mom. She was a lot more confident now, he observed as he and Angel looked at the desserts available … held her head high and her shoulders straight. Over the last few years, he'd noticed her almost fading into the woodwork when she was uncomfortable. He also noticed that the more time she spent around the center, the more settled she seemed. He was silent for several moments as he stared at the Black Forest cake for sale, before adding that 'more settled' was actually a better description than 'more confident.' While she'd learned several moves from Slade, her work at the center was something she truly enjoyed, even more than working at the retirement home.

They … she and Angel … still did their volunteer work, especially at the hospital. In fact, after Grant asked shyly if he could accompany them, the boy and his father started joining them when they went to the neonatal unit. Mom seemed to think that Grant felt more comfortable around people who were smaller than him … but after seeing his face light up, the first time a baby was placed in his arms, Slade murmured that as long as it didn't interfere with work at the center, they would both accompany Mom and Angel to the hospital. Slade was a bit awkward … he was somewhat out of practice, he admitted … but he eventually relaxed. Not surprisingly, he was becoming quite popular … babies tended to be fascinated by his eye patch.

He was also popular with the older children. If he didn't have a baby in his arms, then he was walking the corridors of the hospital at the side or pushing the wheelchair of a sick child. That was actually one of the few times when Grant could bear to have Slade out of his sight, when they were at the hospital. Mom quietly told Angel to be prepared … for all his words about getting attached, at least one of the children at the hospital who Slade interacted with wouldn't make it … and when that child died, it would devastate him. They both noticed that Slade really wasn't very good when it came to dealing with his feelings. He was fine with Grant, and with them, but Mom didn't think he was aware of letting down his guard with those children. That was why she purposely kept putting off the clean-up of one of the worst rooms in the center.

When a child at the hospital died, Mom believed that Slade would retreat … because he was a protector. And this was something that could not be protected from. Rational or not, there would be a part of him that would feel like he failed that child. His rage toward himself and that disease would need a target. Angel questioned how she knew these things (not, Angel realized later, how it was possible, because Slade definitely didn't tell her), and Mom smiled sadly, answering that in a lot of ways, Slade was like Opa. And that was how Opa reacted when he felt like he failed someone he loved. Thinking about it, Angel realized Mom was right … after Angel's dad was killed, Opa created a special unit. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Angel's dad from dying, but in his heart, Opa believed that he failed his daughter.

Opa responded by creating the Jackals. Slade? Slade would likely need something to destroy, and in that worst of the worst of rooms, there was far more to destroy than to save. Angel had to admit, it made a lot of sense, in a Slade sort of way. One thing she learned from their volunteer work at the hospital … everyone had their own ways of grieving. Some of the ladies at their church didn't think Mom should take Angel to volunteer with her, and Angel definitely had issues with Mom the first time a baby Angel had cuddled died. But … Angel was starting to understand. In her own way, Mom was starting to prepare Angel to be an adult. Remembering some of the things she heard from her great-aunt and great-uncle about all the ways Mom had to become an adult before she was even Angel's age … yeah, this was definitely preferable.

As if summoned by Angel's thoughts, Mom entered the kitchen, looking a lot more comfortable in her favorite pair of leggings and an extra large shirt that she thought had belonged to her father. It was faded now. Mom flashed her a tired smile, saying, "Coffee for just your grandfather and Mr. Wilson?" Angel nodded and Mom continued, "Okay, you do that and I'll put water in the kettle for tea for us, and hot chocolate for Grant. He curled up in Slade's lap?" Again, Angel nodded and Mom murmured something under her breath that sounded a bit like, '_I figured as much_' or '_that doesn't surprise me_.'

As her mother padded to first the stove and then the sink, Angel asked quietly, "Do you think Slade will want to take them to the center tomorrow?" Mom hummed under her breath … a soft vocalization that told Angel she heard her, but wasn't ready to answer just yet. Angel focused instead on finding mugs that didn't 'belong' to her mom or Slade, and found what she was looking for in a blue mug that reminded her of the Delft plates hanging in the dining room for her grandfather and a novelty mug her mother picked up at a local flea market the previous summer for Mr. Wilson. Mom snickered and Angel looked over her shoulder to see Mom a few steps behind her, staring at the mug in question. Angel just shrugged, then scowled when Mom messed up her hair.

Mom answered finally, "I'm not sure. It's one thing for us to bring people we know to the center, because it is supposed to be a place for kids like Dillon … besides, they're locals. And he probably wouldn't mind Dad joining us. But his own father? Slade's relationship with his father is nearly as messy as my relationship with your grandmother. And whether he's willing to admit it or not, I think there's a part of Slade which still wants his father's approval." Just as there was still a part of her mother which wanted the approval of her own mother. Angel's mom didn't say it, but she didn't need to. It was something which both Aunt Chloe and Aunt Sissy mentioned to Angel in the past, because of how … strange … Mom got around her own mother.

That was something Angel never considered before, but looking at it that way, it made sense. The tea kettle began to whistle and Mom walked over to the stove, moving it to a cool burner. She poured the hot water into the two mugs which already had tea bags in them, and then did the same with the hot chocolate for Grant. She murmured, "I'll take this in for Grant, and then come back for our tea." Angel nodded … she would follow with the coffee when it was ready. Personally, she hoped Slade would take his father and her grandfather to their center. When he saw what Slade was doing, of _course _his father would be proud of him.

… Wouldn't he?

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Lambert International Airport

St. Louis, MO

About an hour later

Rebecca was steadily getting better. She got frustrated with what she saw as her lack of progress, but given she hadn't had a corporeal body in more than twenty years, and hadn't had to interact with people aside from Tommy or Shado in the last few years, she was doing extremely well. But even if she was still struggling, she would still have accompanied Dory to the airport … as soon as she heard that her nephew in all but blood was on his way to Destine with his own son, Dory suspected that Rebecca would have joined her even if she knew she would spend the next week in her room alone. Which was still entirely possible.

And so, here they stood in the baggage claim of the airport, awaiting Oliver Queen and his son William. They'd found a bench near the baggage carousel for that particular flight. Rebecca questioned that, since she doubted either had checked bags. Dory merely smiled and told her to have faith. Rebecca just rolled her eyes and started pacing. Of course, not ten minutes later, an exhausted Oliver Queen and his equally exhausted son loped toward the exit. Dory was immediately on her feet, and far faster than anyone would have expected a woman of her age to move, intercepted the pair. She smiled at them, saying, "Mayor Oliver Queen? I'm Dory Webster … welcome to St. Louis."

The young man smiled at her tiredly and accepted the hand she offered to him, answering, "Thank you … Mayor Butler told me that you might be the one welcoming us. This is my son, William." Behind her, Dory was aware of Rebecca standing very, very still. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to realize that the younger woman was staring at Oliver, her heart in her eyes. And judging from his expression, it looked like Oliver noticed, even as exhausted as he currently was. Of course he did. He hadn't survived the island and the likes of Amanda Waller and Talia al Ghul for nothing, after all.

Thus, Dory added, "This is Dr. Veronica Morales, a physician with Doctors Without Borders. She was recently injured during an attack against their camp, and she's been staying with me ever since." As ever, there was a method to her madness … her words were not only an introduction, but also a reminder to Rebecca that right now, she wasn't Rebecca Merlyn and that her honorary nephew wouldn't see her as the long-dead and much missed woman. A glance behind her revealed Rebecca shaking herself a little and pasting a smile on her face as she moved forward to shake Oliver's hand (even though her heart was demanding that she hug him).

Even so, Oliver evidently sensed something … off … about Rebecca/Veronica, as his eyes narrowed. However, he shook her hand with a smile, before allowing William to do the same. Dory explained, "Mayor Queen is in town to begin paperwork to link Destine and Star City as sister cities, Veronica. And, I'm given to understand he already has a friend here?" As she spoke, she led the father and son out of the airport and into the chilly night air. She still wasn't sure how much she would tell the young man. She wasn't entirely sure what Slade told his kid brother, or even if it would be necessary for him to tell him anything.

The latter was born out a moment later as the four of them slid into Dory's battered 4x4, when Oliver answered, "Well, you would know about that … you claimed Slade for your town, helped him to find his younger son." A glance in her rearview mirror told her that while he wasn't smiling, his eyes were twinkling. Within ten minutes of meeting him, she was already understanding why 'fond exasperation' was Slade's default setting with Oliver Queen. He was to Slade what half the town was to Dory.

"Very true," she agreed, "although I wouldn't exactly say that I claimed Slade for Destine. I think that was more something Meg did, even if she didn't realize that was what she was doing. You'll likely meet her tomorrow. By the way, Slade doesn't know about the sister city thing, does he?" Oliver's sheepish expression told her all she needed to know, and Dory shook her head in amusement. Well, she could tell that his arrival in her town would make things a lot more interesting. She went on, "Very well, I'll take you to the motel tonight, and then tomorrow, I'll take you to Slade and introduce you to the people of Destine. Because of your tie to Slade, you're already part of our family."

In more ways than one, but he wasn't ready to learn that, at least not yet. From Shado and Tommy, she knew about his connection to that young rascal, John Constantine … so he was aware that there was far more to the world than what was visible to the eye. However, she was sure he wasn't ready to learn that a woman dead for twenty years came back to life in the body of another woman … much less that it was a woman he loved as a child, who was a second mother to him for the first eight years of his life.

But it was Rebecca who answered gleefully when William asked, both warily and hopefully, if that meant he had even more aunts and uncles, "Oh, soooo many more than you know, little one! You even have several sets of grandparents, who are truly looking forward to meeting you and your father." Much to Dory's amusement, the boy's answering expression was somewhere between chagrined and pleased … in other words, what she would expect from a boy his age. She couldn't see the future, as such … but this she did know. By the time the Queens visit to Destine ended, he and Grant Wilson would be best friends.

And hopefully, they would be able to avoid all the pitfalls that entrapped their respective fathers. No, Dory couldn't see _the _future, but for a moment, she did get a glimpse of a _possible_ future, one that had William Clayton Queen and Grant Nicholas Wilson standing side by side, two formidable men raised by two equally formidable fathers … and she almost pitied those who sought to harm the innocent. _Almost_.

TBC


	5. Chapter 4: Didn't See That Coming

Author's Notes: So … my apologies for the long wait. My creativity has been sorely lacking recently (can I blame it on the heat? I'm totally blaming it on the heat). I finally had a breakthrough on Independence Day (happy belated Independence Day to my fellow Americans!) and started writing up a storm. Plus, I've gotten into this new game on Facebook that is borderline addictive. Travel news … I'm heading to DC during our winter break; made the hotel arrangements earlier in the week. The plan is to visit the Library of Congress, one of the places I've never seen in any of my many visits to DC. Given my love of libraries, I was absolutely horrified to realize I'd never been to LOC. Still working out what else I'm doing. And as I think I mentioned, I'm going to New Zealand in March … aside from a few things, I have a feeling that I'll be spending most of my time just sitting on the beach and chillaxing. And, of course, I have Atlanta and DragonCon coming up in less than two months. So … in this chapter, we have Gideon and Bastiaan reacting to the dinner and a few small revelations; something happens between Meg and Slade that neither expected; while Oliver is greeted with something even more unexpected upon his arrival in Destine.

Chapter Four

Didn't See That Coming

Destine, Missouri

Later that Night

"So … my son and your daughter?"

"Not … a … word."

Bastiaan de Vries leveled his friend and partner in crime with the dirtiest look he was capable of producing, because as God was his witness, if the next words out of his mouth had anything to do with speculation on the love lives of their respective children, Bastiaan would not be responsible for what he did next. As much as he adored Angel and was fully aware of how she came into the world, there were certain things he just didn't want to imagine his daughter doing (he was also self-aware enough to realize that Meg felt the exact same way about him). Gideon just smirked and added, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm just saying."

"Well, don't … that's my little girl you're talking about, Gideon. Or did you spend time imagining Slade and the late Adeline together?" Bastiaan fired back. He really hoped not … that would surpass weird and veer into creepy. Actually, forget 'veer,' that was a grand slam into 'creepy,' as his granddaughter would say. It seemed that Gideon felt the same, for he did a full body shudder. Ja … that was more or less what Bastiaan thought. He nodded to the other man and turned his attention to their surroundings. Hardly the first time he did so, but he learned years earlier to do more than one visual sweep of his surroundings; he often found things he missed the first or second times. Actually, that was true personally as well as professionally.

The men were in the room over the garage where they would be staying for the duration of their stay in Destine, after their dinner at his daughter's parish and a brief conversation back at Meg's home, complete with the alcohol Meg had on hand (which, she admitted, wasn't much … however, she tended to keep a stash of DeKuyper Advocaat on hand for him, knowing that it was his favorite). Actually, it was less of a room and more of a small apartment, only without a kitchen. However, the beds were comfortable and his daughter ever so thoughtfully provided them with a microwave and mini-refrigerator.

The decorating was neutral, neither masculine nor feminine, and he wasn't sure if that was Meg's influence or Slade's. It could go either way, as Meg tended to think about what made guests comfortable. And dinner was fun … Bastiaan met Sissy and her daughter several times in the past, but this was the first time he'd met her priest or anyone from their parish. He regarded himself as agnostic … but he enjoyed his conversation with Father Rick. The other man's faith wasn't something Bastiaan understood, but he learned a long time ago that he didn't have to understand something in order to respect it, and they found common ground on other points.

However, there was something bothering him … something which ate away at him ever since he heard Slade mention it to Meg. And rather than revisit the rest of the night (which tended to be eating spaghetti, joking with their children and grandchildren, and getting unexpected dirt on the aforementioned children and grandchildren … future blackmail material), Gideon asked quietly, "Does it bother you so much, that comment my son made to Meg about that incident in her childhood? I'm guessing it actually happened, otherwise you would have said something."

"Oh, it happened … that was actually the catalyst for Chloe reaching out to me. Of course, it took a few years, since I'd moved several times from my last known address. She wasn't sure if she and their brother could take care of Meg properly, especially given Chloe's profession and her being out of town so much. Of course, given our responsibilities, I couldn't take care of her properly, either … but for the first time, I knew that I had a daughter, that I had a child. No … what worries me is the timing. Or rather, what she told Slade the timing was," Bastiaan answered. Gideon frowned thoughtfully, and Bastiaan explained, "Like I said, it happened … but Meg was no more than six or seven, rather than the ten or eleven that she told Slade."

On the face of it, it wasn't that big of a deal. But it was strange to him, given what a traumatic event was, that she would get the time wrong. In fact, that was one of the things Chloe mentioned … '_maybe if she was older, ten or eleven or twelve, she could have gotten someone to take her seriously sooner_.' Gideon said quietly, "It may be a defense mechanism, Bastiaan. She was so very young and helpless … she may have mentally upgraded her age to feel less helpless." Yes, that was possible. Gideon hesitated before continuing, "But Bastiaan, if you're afraid that Slade will consider this a lie … don't be. Meg was a child … aside from her age, everything else she told him was true, and he understands what trauma can do to a person's memory. It'll be fine."

Annnd, as he so often did, Gideon pinpointed exactly what was troubling him. He knew Gideon's son prized loyalty and honor, and he was … concerned that Slade would see Meg's statement regarding her age at the time of the incident as a lie. Gideon went on, "What she said happened, actually happened. That it took place a few years before she thought it did won't be an issue with my son. Now, if she made up the story entirely, that would have been a different situation entirely. The mind plays tricks on you. Slade knows that better than anyone."

Bastiaan swallowed hard, hearing the sadness in his friend's voice, and he asked softly, "Are you all right?" Gideon exhaled slowly, and Bastiaan went on, "I noticed the way you watched Slade during dinner. You weren't just making sure that he was truly free of the Mirukuru … were you?" Gideon shook his head, leaning against the wall. Bastiaan waited patiently. As much as they bickered (and honestly, they both enjoyed the bickering, though they toned it down tonight … Grant didn't like it), Bastiaan believed firmly that they would always have each other's backs.

"No. I never told you this, but I made a few visits to Lian Yu while Slade was imprisoned there. I knew about Mirukuru, knew what it did. And so, after arranging it with Lyla Michaels, I went to Lian Yu, to the prison to see my boy. The Mirukuru was starting to leave his system, and the withdrawal … it was painful to watch. He thought I was a hallucination, those times when I allows myself to be seen, and the bitterness in his voice … I hurt my child, Bastiaan. So many times. I know, we all hurt our children, one way or another. But … he would never tell me that. Not until he thought I wasn't real."

Bastiaan said nothing. Gideon exhaled once again, murmuring with a sad smile, "That man we dined with tonight? That was the first time I've seen anything of my little boy in far too long. He trusts your daughter … he may not realize it, but he does. He lets his guard down with her, teases her and lets her tease him in return. They don't see it yet, but they act as a team, with both children ... not just with Grant or with Angel, but both children, together. I can't remember the last time he and Adeline were a team." Yes, Bastiaan noticed the exact same thing during dinner (when he was pretending not to be amused by Slade and Meg acting like a pair of kids themselves, usually while Grant was away from the table … had to set a good example).

With that in mind, he said quietly, "I don't know if it means anything … but I do think it's a good foundation for whatever comes next." Gideon looked at him quickly and Bastiaan added, "You feel it too, don't you … that there's something simmering just below the surface, especially with Dory? She's far more than she seems." There was a long hesitation and then Gideon nodded, his dark eyes troubled. Bastiaan had a feeling that whatever would happen, it would come after they left Destine … and so all they could do was try to prepare their children, to ensure they, and their respective grandchildren, survived whatever was coming.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

In some ways, it seemed as if the day was coming full circle … their afternoon began with them sitting down on the sofa after spending a full morning working on the attic, in anticipating of her father's arrival in a few days … only to fall asleep, leaning against each other, and be awakened by Slade's loudmouth of a father. Hopefully, they could avoid the final part of that this evening, as both Meg's dad and Gideon Wilson were in the apartment over the garage … besides, once they both wound down, they would be heading to their own beds.

As she hoped, Slade and Grant enjoyed dinner at the parish hall … Grant, especially. The boy's head was on a pivot, looking everywhere as he shoveled food into his mouth. More than once, Slade had to caution his son to slow down before he made himself sick. Angel ate a bit more slowly, explaining about the parish hall between bites of food to her grandfather and Gideon Wilson, while Slade and Meg talked in quiet tones about what they would do the following day. The original plan was to head to the center to do some inventory and paperwork, but that was being amended. They would still head to the center and do some inventory, but they would be taking their respective fathers with them.

Both Slade and Meg were more than a bit stunned by the way the center was taking off. They were nowhere near done with the clean-up or renovations, but more and more parents were asking what sort of classes and/or workshops would be offered. At the suggestion of Mayor Butler, some of the young hooligans in town (his term) were helping with the smaller clean-up projects, whilst keeping the larger projects for Slade. And despite the request of the mayor, Slade decided against a big grand opening, since they were nowhere near ready for that.

Instead, he told Jacob that they were doing a rolling soft open, until the center was completely cleaned up. In the meantime, the offices and conference rooms on the second floor were turned into classrooms and crafts rooms, leaving the main floor open for self-defense classes. The classrooms would have adult supervision, in the form of Meg or Sissy or Lindy when she had time, but there would be no craft classes as such: just a table full of materials (mostly donated, but some bought by Meg and Slade) and youngsters could work on whatever their heart desired.

Of course, that created a new problem, especially when Meg realized they were getting more and more younger children … as in, four, five and six year olds. Slade warned their parents that they weren't a day care center. They weren't licensed, for one thing. If the parent wanted to drop them off for a few hours during the summer, or while they ran errands, that was one thing … but they weren't taking care of them for eight hours. Even so, that was an age where kids grew rapidly and Meg began stocking all of the classrooms with snacks.

And now, they sat in the living room, leaning into each other as they sipped the remaining Advocaat. Not Meg's favorite form of alcohol, but there wasn't much left in the bottle and she did hate to waste things. That reminded her, she needed to go through the spare bedroom again and check for anything that the kids could use for the crafts room. She shook her head at the random patterns of her thoughts and took another sip of the Advocaat.

This was happening more and more frequently … a quiet drink between the two adults, after the kids went to bed. Sometimes they discussed the day's events or what they planned for the following day, but far more frequently, they sat in companionable silence as they sipped whatever they were drinking. Sometimes, they watched tv, but that didn't happen often … both of them treasured silence. There were also a few time when Meg ended up dozing off, her head resting against Slade's shoulder, and she woke up to him carrying her into her room … times when Slade would do the same, his cheek resting on her hair, and while she couldn't carry him to bed, she could and did follow him to make sure he got to his room safely.

Tonight, neither of them were talking much … they both had entirely too much to sort through. Especially Slade, who hadn't been expecting a visit from his father, and all the baggage that entailed … including word of his older son, who vanished after a confrontation with Slade in Kasnia. He apparently reappeared in Austria and was being forced into cleaning up a crypt under St. Stephen's Cathedral. Meg needed to look that up, to see exactly what Joseph William Wilson was having to do. Later, though. Later.

Meg had some things to sort through as well … the revelation of what her father actually did for a living, for one thing, to say nothing of the discovery that their fathers knew each other, had worked together for years. There was also the revelation that her father helped to found a special unit, because of her husband's death. That … in truth, she didn't even remember that her father wasn't at Stephen's funeral. Most of her memories surrounding that awful time, she barely remembered … too lost in a haze of grief and loss and guilt. Her husband died and she hadn't been there. Hadn't even had a chance to kiss him good-bye that morning. Did she remember to tell him that she loved him before she hung up the phone the night before? Did she kiss him good-bye at the airport?

There was so much from that time that she didn't remember … the fact that her father couldn't be there was just one more thing. Her mother was, but she might as well not have been. She had a vague memory of her aunt dragging her twin sister away and hissing that if she couldn't be there for her only child on the worst day of Meg's life, then she should get her ass on the next available bus, and leave the comforting to her brother and sister. Clarissa Anderson left later that day. Meg vaguely registered that at the time. It didn't hurt until later. It also didn't occur to her until much later that the fog that descended upon her in that time could be a first sign that she inherited her mother's mental issues. Aunt Chloe reassured her that nothing could be further than the truth … that was grief, not mental illness.

The fact that the Jackals eventually subverted their charter … choosing instead to hurt people instead of protecting them … that didn't take away from what her father did. He was unable to be at Stephen's funeral not because he didn't want to be, but because he couldn't be, physically couldn't be … and so he honored her husband in the only way he could. That Joe Wilson, this Anatoli person, and Nylander chose to use their charter to harm others was on them, not on her father … something she would tell him every chance she could.

She must have sighed quietly, because Slade asked, his voice not much above a whisper, "Everything all right?" She nodded, her head resting against his shoulder (when did that happen? She didn't remember doing that) and Slade went on, "C'mon … let's get you to bed before I end up carrying you. It's been a long day, and it will be an even longer day tomorrow." Meg snorted at that, and Slade added teasingly, "Now, now, none of that, Margreet."

Ahh, he knew better than that! Meg poked him in the ribs with her left hand, drawing a squawk from him. Slade glowered down at her, which was more intimidating than normal due to his eyepatch, and he grabbed both of her hands … which served to pull her off against his body. Meg froze … and so did Slade. They stared at each other for several moments, Slade's brown eye focused solely on her. Her eyes shifted from his eye to his lips and back to his eye, his hands warm around her own. She whispered, a bit breathlessly, "Time for bed, I think." He nodded, his eye never leaving hers … but he didn't release her hands … not until a sleepy voice called up the stairs. And then Slade blinked, releasing her hands at the same time.

"Yes. Sleep well, Meg," he answered. She rose to her feet, Slade following only seconds later. He stared down at her for several moments, before lightly brushing a kiss against her forehead. For the second time in the last ten minutes, Meg froze … and Slade slipped away quietly, leaving Meg standing alone in her living room. She touched her forehead lightly where Slade kissed her, the ground suddenly unsteady under her feet. But was it the sensation of Slade's lips soft against her skin … or was it just the alcohol?

It had to be the alcohol. Meg took a deep breath and picked up the glasses they'd been drinking out of, before heading into the kitchen … still feeling more than a bit unsteady. She was trying so very hard not to read anything into that kiss. After all, it wasn't a real kiss (it was a real kiss, forehead kisses counted as real kisses), and it didn't mean anything to Slade (but he never kissed her before). She absolutely would not read anything into that kiss, because it was just a casual thing, nothing to be excited over (it wasn't a casual kiss, Slade didn't do casual kisses).

It would take her a long time to fall asleep that night, once she put the glasses in the sink and double-checked the kitchen … once she got to her own room and changed into pajamas. But she wasn't the only one, as Slade lay in the basement beside his son, listening to Grant's breathing as he wondered what, exactly, he'd been thinking … and how he would face Meg in the morning.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

She hadn't intended to stop at the spaghetti dinner … Rebecca wanted to go back to her room, and she was _very_ uncomfortable with the distance she had to keep from Oliver. However, in a rare moment of thoughtlessness, Dory forgot to ask Oliver and William if they were hungry while they were still in St. Louis … and by the time she remembered, they were almost to Destine. Fortunately, they were near Rebecca's motel, so she dropped off the younger woman at her room, explaining to Oliver as they headed to the parish hall that Veronica wasn't comfortable with a lot of other people, especially not strangers. Oliver merely commented that he understood and steered the conversation to the town. That didn't surprise her … what did surprise her was the lack of questions about Slade. No, Oliver was more interested in the town itself.

Maybe it shouldn't have, as Oliver would see his older brother soon enough … Destine was something else entirely. Plus, he wasn't just here as Slade's annoying little brother, but as the mayor of Star City and would be meeting with Jacob Butler. You could do research about a city or a town on the internet, but it could only take you so far. And so, she answered his questions … successfully, for the most part, since she grew up here.

When they got to the church, William asked if he could remain in the car … he was getting tired and wasn't up to meeting new people tonight. That wasn't what he said, but both his father and Dory understood. And since William would stay in the car, so would his father. That was fine with Dory … she'd duck in, grab the food, and be out quickly. She wasn't expecting to see Gideon Wilson or Bastiaan de Vries. She met Bastiaan during his trips to Destine … but Gideon Wilson, when he was introduced to her, was a surprise. Not just to meet him, and learn that he was Slade's father, but to learn that he and Bastiaan were friends.

Her sense of unease grew … and they looked uncomfortable as well. She realized the first time she met Bastiaan that there was far more to him than what he'd told his daughter … for her own protection, of course. She realized during subsequent meetings that he'd realized that there was far more to her, as well. Oh, she wasn't a spy or an assassin … she was something far more dangerous. Perhaps Bastiaan himself was an old soul in the same way that Dory was, perhaps he was aware of people like John Constantine and others. Dory wasn't sure. She just knew that he was other, and that he recognized _her_ as other.

Once she had the food and could end the conversation with the two spies, she escaped back out to the car where Oliver and William were waiting without encountering any more people. Once back in the car, she handed the food to Oliver, started the car and explained that they would be going to her diner to eat. She supposed she could have taken them to the hotel where they would be staying, where the mayor made the arrangements, but didn't think William would be comfortable doing that. And so, the next stop was her diner, where she had plenty of parmesan cheese and various types of dressing for the salad, and desserts of her own … and where a young boy could eat to his heart's content without worrying about spilling sauce or anything else on what looked like expensive cloth or wood.

Not surprisingly, William tore into the food with all the enthusiasm she'd expect from a boy his age, with only a few cautions from his father to slow down before he made himself sick. Oliver himself ate his food in a leisurely manner, taking occasional sips from the water he'd requested. Dory bustled around her diner, double-checking her inventory to allow the father and son to eat in peace. That also allowed her to duck into the pantry to check in with Shado and Tommy. Per his instructions, Tommy had been watching Joe Wilson in Austria, getting more and more aggravated with the younger male. Twice during Shado's report about what was going on in the town, he'd disappeared, muttering under his breath, '_what is he doing … you are such an idiot_.'

Shado sighed and rolled her eyes, telling Dory that Tommy was becoming more and more annoyed with the younger Wilson's behavior. He wasn't learning a damn thing from his punishment, it seemed. Dory wasn't particularly surprised. Joe Wilson came from a long line of stubborn men. You had to be careful with the punishment you issued to them … they sometimes learned the wrong lesson from it. There were some similarities between Joe and Tommy … but there were also huge differences. And _that_ was provoking Tommy's irritation.

Shado had her own issues … she was watching both Oliver and Slade, who were within a few hundred yards of each other and didn't know it. She wasn't sure how she would feel, how she would react when the two brothers were together again, and since their ability to manifest themselves was controlled by strong emotions, feared that she would get irritated and decided to knock their heads together. Dory wasn't entirely sure that was a bad thing. Oliver could be just as stubborn as his older brother, after all, if not more so, something she pointed out to Shado.

Her granddaughter just laughed at that, before continuing with her report of what was happening in town while she saw to Rebecca and picked up Oliver and William. She knew, of course, about the arrival of de Vries and Wilson, but Shado entertained her with what happened when they first arrived at Meg's home. Apparently the senior Wilson decided to wake his son and his hostess from a much-needed nap … the entertainment factor came into play with the reactions of Slade and Meg. Meg had grabbed a paperweight that was a souvenir from her late husband and was fully prepared to throw it at her father and his uninvited guest. Dory wished she could have been there to see it.

Tommy popped back in at that point, explaining that Valentina Auer got wise to Joe being an idiot. Evidently, he found a way out that didn't involve going past the guards at the crypt. Hardly surprising, considering how old the cathedral was, and something Valentina evidently forgot: the tours being led through the crypts and catacombs under St. Stephen. She was working on a suitable punishment for him … Tommy suggested a few things dealing with the urns contain the viscera of rulers past, but one thing Dory learned over the last few weeks, ever since Tommy started watching over Joe … Valentina could be very creative indeed.

The young man also checked in on his father … much to his astonishment, Malcolm was actually making progress. Not for the first time, Tommy wondered what he did wrong, that he couldn't get through to his father … but this woman could. Dory reminded him of the concept of similar wounds causing similar scars. This woman, Kali, was a mystery to Dory … but she had a feeling that she'd committed crimes similar to Malcolm, perhaps even for similar reasons. It made sense, because after enduring such a loss … and a loss that you were partially responsible for … it was hard for anyone to say '_I understand how you feel_' and not be laughed at.

It was rare that Dory lost track of time while talking to Tommy and Shado. Then again, most of the time, her diner was full of people, or completely empty. This was, in fact, the first time she'd had only two people in her diner, so maybe she could be forgiven. Even so, she was more than a little surprised when she heard Oliver call, "Dory? Where is the rest of your Parmesan cheese? The meat sauce was a little spicier than what William is used to and he doused his spaghetti in cheese. I … _Shado_?"

The name was choked out, rather than spoken, even as Dory whirled about to face the young man. Oliver Queen was staring at her granddaughter, blue eyes wide with shock and face roughly the same color as spoiled milk. Dory's mind threatened to shut down, because it shouldn't be possible for him to see Shado, but he was seeing her (_why wasn't he seeing Tommy … oh. Because he disappeared as soon as Oliver appeared_). The young mayor repeated, voice sounding even more strangled, "Shado?"

And her granddaughter smiled at him gently, answering in reply, "Hello, Oliver … it's so good to see you again."

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: (evil cackling) Yes, Oliver, that is really Shado … not a hallucination for you or Slade. And yes, Tommy disappeared … he's not yet ready to talk with Oliver, 'cause he still feels like a jerk for how he acted in the last few days and weeks before his death. Or, put more simply, he's still too ashamed. And yes, there is some foreshadowing of something to come where Joe and Tommy are concerned. Joe is _really_ getting on Tommy's nerves. Until next time!


	6. Chapter 5: Late Night Conversations

Author's Notes: Yes, I am updating! My apologies for the delay ... Oliver and Slade were being difficult, but I compromised with them. So, in this chapter, we see a continuation of the encounter from the chapter previous … namely, a conversation between Oliver and Shado's spirit. As you can imagine, the lady has quite a lot to say. And in the second section, Slade talks to his father about a number of things, up to and including kissing Meg. Because of course he's as stunned by that development as she is. It is kind of a short chapter, but next chapter is when Oliver and Slade come face to face … so that kinda makes that the important chapter, right? Forward!

Chapter Five

Late Night Talks

Dory's Diner

Destine, Missouri

Approximately 10:30 pm

"Hello, Oliver."

The words reverberated in Oliver Queen's brain as he stared at the luminous young woman in front of him. It … it couldn't be. He tried desperately to remember what he'd eaten within the last twenty-four hours to make him hallucinate, because it _had_ to be a hallucination. There weren't real ghosts (were there?), so the beautiful girl he saw had to be a hallucination. She smiled at him, the smile he remembered from the island before things fell apart so horribly, and said, "You're not imagining me, Oliver. I'm really here."

"You're a hallucination, of course you'd say that," he retorted, only vaguely aware of Dory moving away and speaking to William. Shado just smiled again, murmuring '_Thank you_, _grandmother_' as Dory shifted backward. And of course, that was what ended up convincing him … or, at least, made it easier for him to believe. He found himself asking, "She's your grandmother?" Shado never really talked about her family, aside from her father. He hadn't even known that she had a sister. Actually, now that he thought about it, he knew more about Slade's family than about Shado's, and made a mental note to tease his brother about that.

"In a manner of speaking. In another life, she carried another name, and that woman was my grandmother," Shado answered. She was really here. She wasn't a hallucination, not a figment of his imagination. As if hearing what he was thinking, she added, "And I've been watching over you and Slade. I still love you both, and never once blamed you for my transition, Oliver. Never. It wasn't your fault, it was Ivo's, and only Ivo's. Not yours. Not Sara's. There were so many times when I tried to reach Slade, but those damnable hallucinations …"

She shook her head, looking away. Oliver could only stare at her in shock. In a distant part of his mind, he was glad she mentioned that Dory was her grandmother first. He might have imagined Shado telling him that she forgave him, that there was nothing to forgive … but he had no reason to imagine the first. Shado went on, "I've always watched over you both, always wept for you both. I was there when you were forced to work for Waller, and when Slade learned you were alive. I was there when you faced off in Starling City, and when you became brothers once more on Lian Yu. And you … you are far more ready to see me than he is."

Oliver nodded … no, the third member of their group was in no way ready to see the real Shado again. He said quietly, "There … sometimes I wonder if you'd still be here, if you'd chosen Slade." Shado merely smiled at him with an affectionate exasperation, the way she had on the island when he said something she regarded as particularly silly. And the memory cascade that unleashed threatened to take his breath away. He whispered, "I have missed you both … so much, Shado."

"We're here now, Oliver. There is. Dory is currently plying your son with ice cream, so I'll go ahead and tell you. A few weeks ago, Rebecca … Rebecca Merlyn … her soul was pulled out of the afterlife, and stuffed into the body of a woman who temporarily died after being badly injured. That isn't supposed to be possible. But Rebecca walks and breathes once more … and Tommy has begun manifesting himself in the world of the living as well. Yes, he's here … no, he's not ready to see you yet. He's still too ashamed of how he behaved before he died. But I wanted you to know about Rebecca, because she's in the town where you're staying. And I think you know who she is now."

How on earth would he know who Aunt Rebecca was now, when the only people he'd met here in Starling were Dory and … ? Oliver's mind stuttered to a stop as he thought again about the woman who accompanied Dory to the airport, the woman whom he noticed staring at him with such longing. With a lump in his throat, he asked, "That woman with Dory, the one she had to drop off at her hotel because she was so uncomfortable with people … that was Aunt Rebecca?" Veronica, his mind supplied a moment later, and Shado inclined her head.

Aunt Rebecca was back. In another woman's body, but based on what he'd seen for himself and Shado's words, she'd never stopped watching over him, watching over them all. He tried not to think how many times her heart was broken while she was watching over them. A moment after that, Oliver remembered something else Shado said and asked, "Wait … if Tommy has the ability to manifest himself, and he's not ready to come to me … then …?" He wasn't entirely sure what he was asking, but as she often did, Shado figured it out.

A small, teasing smile touched her lips as she replied, "He's been appearing to someone in Vienna, Austria." Vienna … Austria? Why? Shado's grin broadened as she explained, "Joe Wilson is being punished for being a jackass, among other things, by cleaning up the crypt under St. Stephen in Vienna. Tommy has been tormenting him by flickering into existence and then disappearing. I think he eventually plans to actually speak to him, but not yet." Oliver felt his brows arching and Shado further observed, "So far as Tommy is concerned, Joe is an ungrateful jackass and Tommy would switch fathers with him in a heartbeat, even if Slade is too young to be Tommy's father."

Oliver … couldn't argue with that. Shado seemed to agree, saying, "Slade may worry that he'll mess things up with Grant, but Tommy sees that he's trying, sees that he tried with Joe … and that means everything to him. If I could eat, I'd be investing in popcorn for when Tommy can interact with Joe." That surprised a huff of laughter from Oliver, who found himself imagining how that particular meeting would go.

"I think I'd want popcorn for that, too," he admitted, biting back a laugh … the last thing he wanted was for William to hear him laughing and come to investigate. Whether William saw him talking to empty air or to a ghostly young woman, there were some conversations he just wasn't ready to have with his son. And he did need to get back to his son. But before he did, there was one last thing he needed to say this woman who taught him so much, who gave him so much. Even if he'd said it already. But Shado was already shaking her head, because of course she knew what he was thinking.

"No, Oliver … don't apologize. I'm at peace … something I want for both you and Slade, sometime before you join me. And you will join me, both of you … I won't accept anything less," Shado told him. Oliver raised his eyebrows. Peace? Slade? Had she met their gruff third? Shado rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him, as if to swat him, and added, "Oh, hush, you! You might not have said anything, but you were thinking it. Go back to your son. Tomorrow, you'll meet up with Slade and Grant." And to be honest, Oliver wasn't sure if he was ready for that. But … he would be.

DSDSDSDSDS

Home of Meg Carvalho

Approximately the same time

"I wasn't expecting to find you here. It's late … then again, early nights became a thing of the past the moment you joined ASIS, I suppose … and then again when you became a parent for the first time."

His father's voice drew Slade's attention away from what he was doing … namely taking apart and cleaning his gun. Restlessness drove him upstairs once Grant was asleep. His little boy was growing up and needed his rest … but Slade needed something else. This was the something else he chose. It was, in some ways, a form of meditation for him, something for his hands to do while he tried to work something out mentally. Right now, that something was kissing Meg. It was something he hadn't done in such a long time, even if it was as simple as a kiss to her forehead. And judging from her expression, it startled her just as much as it startled him. Slade didn't do kisses, he didn't do romance … he could have said he didn't do attachments, but his past with Oliver and his sons proved that to be a lie.

And so, he sat here in Meg's living room, eyeing the piano where her husband used to play lullabies for Angel as Meg walked the floor with their daughter in her arms, trying to figure out what the hell was happening to him. He'd only known Meg for a few months (and how long had he known Oliver when he sacrificed his way off Lian Yu to rescue the trouble-prone young man?), and yet …

His father continued when Slade didn't answer, "You know, Bastiaan has always told me that a man who cleans his gun on a daily basis, even when he's not firing it, is not just safety-conscious … but he also has a lot on his mind. Do you want to talk about it, son?" Slade snorted under his breath … really? Since when did they talk about anything? He'd hoped that when he ignored his father, the elder man would take the hint and return to the loft. He didn't.

Instead, his father took the seat that Angel favored, murmuring, "When Bastiaan asked me to accompany him here, I was expecting only to meet his daughter. He's told me so much about her over the years. I wondered sometimes if he realized how contradictory he was about her … on the one hand, he often bragged about her accomplishments. On the other hand, he was sure that he was the only one in the family who was an adrenaline junkie."

That surprised a laugh out of Slade, who answered, "Meg isn't an adrenaline junkie … she just still has a streak of idealism, still has a desire to save the world. And after the three of us were taken captive by Grant's doppelganger from the future, she asked me to teach her and Angel to protect themselves." For the first time, Slade looked up from what he was doing, his eye focusing on his father as he added, "She never wants to be that helpless again." Obviously remembering Meg surging to her feet with the paperweight in her hands, Gideon Wilson smiled. Slade made a final inspection of his gun before he began re-assembling it, asking, "What brings you down here?"

"You still haven't answered my question, lad … you answer my question and I'll answer yours. What's troubling you?" his father answered. Slade sighed, his hands stilling. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how to put into words what he was thinking. He wasn't even sure he could put into words what he was feeling, much less his feelings toward Meg. But if his father was going to play this game, then Slade would have to at least make the attempt. Even if he would rather face off with Fyars, Wintergreen, _and_ Ivo at the same time than have this conversation.

After finishing the reassembling of his gun, Slade sat back and answered bluntly, "I kissed Meg tonight." His father's eyes widened, and Slade went on, "It was on her forehead, when we said good-night … but I kissed her." His father gave a low whistle, and Slade sat back, sighing, "I've known her three months, Father. I don't know where that came from, and I have no idea where it's going, if it's going anywhere, or how Meg will react when I see her in the morning." In truth, that final item was what concerned him most … how would Meg react in the morning? Gideon Wilson was silent for several moments.

At last, he observed, "I could tell you that Meg seems to be a level-headed young woman … Bastiaan has said that about her often enough. He tells me that she's his level-headed, sensible daughter. I'm not entirely sure I believe that, but I only just met her today. But … I think I'll ask a question instead?" Slade raised his head to look at his father, who continued, "Why does this make you so uncomfortable? Why is it such an issue, kissing Meg?" Before Slade could answer, his father added, "What is your worst case scenario?"

"Getting Meg or Angel killed," was Slade's immediate, and blunt, answer. His father blinked a bit, and Slade continued, "Whether because of things I did while I was under the Mirukuru or one of my missions, by virtue of knowing me, they're both in danger. But leaving puts them in even greater danger." He'd realized that whilst dealing with his younger son's potential future doppelganger. If he'd left … no. No, he'd stayed and as long as he was in town (which was for the foreseeable future), he would protect Meg and Angel.

"All right, lad, I see your point. Then tell me, what's your best case scenario?" was the next question. Slade just smirked a bit, because was there a best case scenario? He couldn't see any. His father sighed, asking next, "All right then … what if she feels the same way you do? Then what?" Ahh, that brought problems of its own. Then again, Slade was becoming accustomed to that feeling.

"I don't know, because I don't know how I feel. I like her, I care about her, I'd slot anyone who tried to hurt her, but beyond that? I don't know. Besides, as I said, I've only known her for a few months," he answered. And that was the whole thing, wasn't it? (He ignored the voice in the back of his head which murmured that he'd known Oliver even less time when he started risking his life for the kid. That wasn't the point. Except it was).

"All true … but you're forgetting one thing, son," his father observed. Slade arched an eyebrow over his eyepatch. Oh, he couldn't wait to hear this. The older man went on, "You've _lived_ with her for those few months. I'm willing to bet that at this point, you know her better than you did Adeline at the same stage. You know how she likes her coffee, how to calm her when she's upset, what her defensive weakness is …"

"She prefers mocha or cappuccino to regular coffee, letting her rant usually works best until she's worn herself out, and she becomes distracted by her worry for Angel," Slade answered automatically, then glowered at his father, who was smirking at him. He would have accused his father of setting him up, but knew he'd prove the other's point. Slade grumbled, "I still don't know …"

"But you do. You said it yourself, Slade, you care for the girl. I'm not saying either of you are ready for a relationship, but I also don't think this has to be a catastrophe. As long as you accept that she's not like Adeline, that she's had a far different life, there's nothing to worry about," was the response. There was a brief silence, then his father added gently, "I've seen the way she looks at you, Slade. She cares for you as much as you care for her. That's not a bad thing. I understand that you're worried she might get hurt when an old enemy comes calling, but I submit, my boy, that she's far more capable than either of us realize. I remember how she held that paperweight when I startled you both awake, and her form was excellent. Even learning defense at her age, she could be quite lethal."

Slade thought back to that rather unpleasant awakening, remembered his glance to the side to make sure Meg was okay, and seeing the way she held herself, the way the paperweight was gripped in her hand, and had to admit that his father was right. The other man went on, "I know you're not ready. Neither is she. But I also think that fretting over a gentle kiss good night to her forehead … I don't think that's a ready to worry. It may have startled her, but I don't think she'll be upset."

All true, but Slade would put aside his concerns about that until the morning. Maybe after the first cup of coffee. Instead, he focused on his father, saying, "I told you what was on my mind … turnabout is fair play, as Angel likes to tell me." A grimace from the other man told me that his father hoped he'd forgotten about that. Not a chance. If Slade was going to have to suffer through a conversation about what was bothering him, so was his father.

"If you absolutely must know, Bastiaan snores," his father answered, surprising a laugh out of Slade. Meg's father … snored. All right, he could buy that. Meg didn't snore so much as talk, as he'd learned whilst sleeping in the dressing room. Often talked, occasionally whimpered, but if she snored, it was so softly, it didn't disturb him. He'd had bunkmates who snored so loudly (when they weren't breaking wind in their sleep, which was noxious as well as annoying), he'd been tempted to shoot them. Sorely, sorely tempted.

Thinking of that, he asked, "Was this the first time you've roomed with someone who snored? Or worse?" The Look his father gave him in response left Slade snickering. So did the other man's grumblings. Slade double-checked his gun before sliding it back into its holster inside his boot and sat back on the sofa, folding his arms over his chest as he regarded his father with no small amount of amusement. Not the conversation he envisioned having with his father (then again, he never really thought about having a conversation with his father during the last few decades).

"Not funny, Slade Joseph, not funny at all," his father continued to grumble. Slade's smirk turned into a grin. He thought it was hilarious. At last, his father sighed, "Fine. Usually, when we both sleep on a plane, the angle of his head prevents the snoring. Lying flat? That angle isn't there, and he's bloody well keeping me awake. None of my usual tricks are working, and I wasn't sure how our lovely hostess would react to me turning on the water in the bathroom."

"If you're worried about her water bill, don't be … she might be more annoyed with wet linen, though. It's difficult to get that smell out, after all," Slade answered, still grinning. He pulled back as his father swiped at his head, adding, "If you like, you can sleep on the sofa. Just be aware, Meg is up early nearly every morning." This was said as he rose to his feet, exhaustion once more creeping up on him. It was time to go to bed, and hopefully, he was quiet enough when he came upstairs that he didn't wake Grant.

His father snorted in response, answering, "In case you hadn't missed it, lad, I sleep only a few hours at night. But, I think I will stay here. I learned during my years in the business that you can learn a lot about a person from their living room. Sleep well, son." Slade nodded and padded through the kitchen to the door to the basement. Even with his conversation with his father, he still had a lot to consider. But he would do that in the morning.

Except … the universe had a surprise coming for him that morning, and it would be sometime before he could discuss that kiss.

TBC


	7. Chapter 6: Lost Boys

Author's Notes: So, I was doing some plotting whilst planning for my trip to DC next month, and it occurred to me that a) I hadn't done anything about Malcolm's redemption arc in a while and b) the story title fit Malcolm and Tommy as much as it did Gideon, Slade, and Grant. With regards to Eleanor, she's made appearances in several of my _Torchwood_ stories as well as a few _Captain_ _America_/_Avengers_ stories. Short explanation … she nearly took her life after her husband and four sons were all killed in the American Civil War. She met Dite, an alien being who can only survive within a host. Dite offered her a deal … be her host for a certain amount of time, to see that her own life didn't have to end with the lives of her boys. If, after five years, Eleanor still felt the same, Dite would leave her and Eleanor could end her life if she so chose. Obviously, Eleanor realized that she could always mourn her boys … but she could still love and still had something to offer other people. Eventually, Dite chose a new host and allowed Eleanor to live out the rest of her life as she saw fit. She has no special training as a therapist, just the school of hard knocks. As for Malcolm, he still has a long way to go, and in truth, he'll never fully be the man he was before Rebecca's death … but he's better than he was. He has to bring the two parts of himself (Rebecca's husband/Tommy's father and the Dark Archer) into alignment. So. In this chapter, Malcolm takes another step forward in his redemption; and Tommy takes another step forward in forgiving his father. Originally, Grant was supposed to show up, but his section stalled, so I've copied and pasted that into another document, possibly to be used at a later date. Hopefully, Oliver and Slade will be coming face to face in the next chapter (crosses fingers, toes, and all other appropriate body parts).

Chapter Six

Lost Boys

Un-named Fortress in India

Same Time

Early Morning Local Time

One of the first things he learned, once he was permitted to leave his quarters for something other than meals, was that everyone had a job here, and everyone served each other. Even Kali … rephrase, especially Kali. As temporary site administrator, she made sure that they had what they needed, whether that was access to the food stores or access to a healer. What surprised him was when he entered the common room a few weeks after his awakening to find an unfamiliar woman sitting with Kali at one of the rare round tables in the common room. Kali noticed his arrival and beckoned him over, saying as he approached, "Eleanor, this is the man I mentioned, Malcolm Merlyn. Malcolm, this is Eleanor … she's a therapist on loan to us."

Malcolm froze … therapist? Kali smiled a bit maliciously, saying, "Yes, a therapist. You desperately needed therapy after your wife was murdered, and didn't get it. You're getting it now. No arguments, that's one of the terms of your eventual release." Malcolm continued to stare at her in shock, because he hadn't needed a therapist then, and he didn't need one now (her final sentence wouldn't register in his mind until several hours later). Kali's voice softened, gentled, as she told him, "You _do_ need a therapist, Malcolm … you went through something horrific, and you need someone neutral to talk to. You've started accepting responsibility for the horrors you created … now you need to start healing from the horrors inflicted upon you when Rebecca was murdered and when people whom your wife worked so hard to help walked past her like she wasn't important."

Malcolm flinched, because he'd been trying so damn hard to forget that part. It was bad enough that his Rebecca was gone, never to return, and that Tommy was dead by his own father's hand … but to remember that Rebecca died alone, that no one would even try to help her? He asked hoarsely, "And what would she know about it?" He honestly wasn't trying to be an ass, even as he flinched at his own question … but the more time he spent here, the more horrified he was by what he'd become, by his actions against people he'd once loved (still loved, in the cases of Tommy, Oliver, and Thea). What did this woman know about unleashing the sort of hell he had? Kali was one thing … she'd done horrific things herself. But this Eleanor? What could she know?

Kali opened her mouth, but Eleanor silenced her by placing a hand on her wrist. For the first time, Malcolm got a good look at her. She was about ten to fifteen years older than he was, but apparently had taken very good care of herself. Statuesque and blonde, she evaluated him with a quiet, assessing gaze. Malcolm grew ever more uncomfortable under the steadiness of that gaze. At last, she smiled and said in a gentle voice, "Kali tells me that it's best to be honest with you, as you're an accomplished liar and so can detect a lie yourself."

Malcolm would have winced, but she was correct on both points. Eleanor went on, "The truth is strange, but I suspect given our current circumstances, it won't be that hard to believe. Despite my appearance, I am a very old woman. I have seen and done more things than you can imagine. I buried my husband and all four of my beautiful boys during the War Between the States, and I have lived through twenty-nine American presidents, as well as two World Wars. Whatever you've seen, whatever you've heard, whatever you've experienced, I can take. You only need the courage to open your mouth." They both ignored Kali's muttered, '_trust me, he has plenty of courage in that department_,' Malcolm because he was still processing what Eleanor said about living through twenty-nine US presidents, and he had no idea why Eleanor was ignoring her.

She was far from the first long-lived individual he'd met … Ra's, after all, lived many centuries. But … his instincts told him that this woman never went near a Lazarus Pit, probably didn't even know what it was. She also seemed to be fully human. He … lost his train of thought as Eleanor said quietly, "Malcolm … let go. Stop calculating and overthinking and overanalyzing. You've been doing that ever since your wife was taken from you, and that's hurt you as much as it's hurt other people, including both of your children. Let go."

He would have asked, _'let go of what_,' but she'd already told him. The trouble was, things weren't that easy. She added in a gentle voice, "You don't have to start with something big, child. Sit down. Start with … start with telling me about your wife. How often since her death have you talked about her, about the woman you fell in love with and married?" He did as directed, ignoring the 'child,' and sat down at the table. The truth was, he couldn't remember the last time he had an actual conversation with anyone about Rebecca, aside from his argument with Tommy when he wanted to shut down her clinic (a memory that brought a fresh stab of grief once more). But that wasn't about her, not really.

"She hated roller coasters … really, she hated anything that turned her upside down," he began, laughing a little at himself, that those were the first words out of his mouth about her in so long. Eleanor smiled at that, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and he went on, "It was never the speed. She loved fast rides. She just hated the loop-de-loops on roller coasters. That's actually how we met … we'd both gone to Knott's Berry Farm with groups of our friends. We stopped at the same bench, me to write a note to myself about an idea I'd had for what would become Merlyn Global and Rebecca because she hated roller coasters. She asked me what I was doing … and that was where it all began. I asked her to marry me three months later."

Even now, more than thirty years later, he could see her in his mind's eye, smiling up at him as the sun warmed them both, could feel the weight of the backpack on his shoulders. But then, the reality came crashing down on him once again … his Rebecca was gone. The grief, never truly gone, washed over him like a tidal wave. If he wasn't already sitting down, he would have collapsed from the sorrow that overwhelmed him in that moment … and guilt. He should have been there.

The hatred he'd directed at the Glades for so long boomeranged, and self-loathing took its place. Damn the office, damn his responsibilities to the company, he should have been there with her! He had a responsibility to her, he should have gone to the Glades when she called! He bit down hard on a knuckle, something he hadn't done since he was a child, trying to stifle his sobs. He'd thought he had no more tears left to shed for the wife he'd failed so badly, that the only things left were rage and guilt. He was wrong. Yet again.

A small callused hand covered his on the table, saying softly, "Let yourself grieve, Malcolm. Stop poisoning yourself, stop punishing yourself. Maybe there were things you should have done, but the person most responsible was the one who pulled the trigger. _He_ is to blame for Rebecca's murder." Malcolm closed his eyes as tears leaked from their corners, biting down hard enough on his knuckle to draw blood, but it didn't matter, because she was wrong. He was responsible too, because he wasn't there for Rebecca when she needed him most.

And then Kali was carefully prying his hand away, Eleanor shifting to sit beside him as she slipped her arm around his shoulders, murmuring, "You couldn't have gotten to her in time, Malcolm. And even if you'd been there, nothing would have changed. Things could have in fact been worse. Rebecca's death wasn't your fault. Carry your own sins, not the sins of others." She drew his head to rest on her shoulder, allowing him to cry into her blouse. He was vaguely aware of Kali cleaning and wrapping his hand, before resting her head against his shoulder, and Eleanor whispering, "Now you can begin to heal, child."

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Afterlife

Same Time

Tommy Merlyn stared in shock at his weeping father. He'd taken a break from annoying Joe Wilson … and came back to this. For once, his mind wasn't spinning about, '_why could I never get through to him_?' No, he was stunned to see his father sobbing in a strange woman's arms … and even more shocked to hear that his father blamed himself for his mother's murder. But when he thought about it, it made perfect sense. His father never liked the idea of his mother's clinic in the Glades, not because he thought less of the people there … no, that came later. He always feared for his wife's safety, and to his frustration, she would never accept any protection, arguing that it would make it harder for the denizens of the Glades to trust her. For the first time, Tommy realized his mother was wrong. In the years since he joined her, they'd never really discussed … well, so many things. Including why she resisted all of her husband's attempts to protect her.

If he could go back in time (as the Grant Wilson from the future had done), he would try to convince his mother otherwise … that protection for her also extended to the people she would try to help. But … look at how things turned out for that version of Grant Wilson? He ended up wiping himself out of existence with his actions (on the other hand, would that be such a bad thing? What would a version of Tommy Merlyn, who never lost his mother, and by extension, his father … what would he look like?)

"That's a dangerous game, Tommy … I know, I _know_ you're hurting right now. But even though things ended up working out for Grant in the long run as things stand now, that doesn't mean it will in every instance. I've run a few scenarios myself, to see if going back in time would end up helping Oliver and Slade," Shado said quietly, returning from her conversation with Oliver. Judging from her tone, things didn't work out so well, and Shado confirmed this a moment later, saying, "Every time I tried to 'help,' either of my boys would die. Sometimes, even both."

He noticed that she didn't mention her own survival, though he wasn't entirely surprised. She loved Slade and Oliver … seeing what they both went through after her death broke her heart over and over again. As to her advice, Tommy wasn't really surprised … but he wished, nonetheless. He wished his mother never died, he wished his father hadn't become the strange, distant man he was when he came back from Nanda Parbat. Now, he was starting to understand that his father never really stopped loving him … but his hatred for those who let Tommy's mother die and her murderer was stronger than his love for his son, their son. And he knew that, because for the first time in more than twenty years, he was starting to see signs of the dad he'd lost at the same time as his mother's death. He said softly, "I missed him so much, you know."

Shado wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning against his shoulder as she murmured, "I know. I also know that no matter what you may have said, you never stopped loving him, either. In fact, the fact that you were so very angry shows that. You wouldn't have been so angry with him if you didn't love him. If you didn't still love him, you would have been indifferent … you wouldn't have wanted to hurt him as he hurt you." Tommy closed his eyes, shutting out the image of his weeping father. Because Shado was right. Then again, as his best friend found out on the island, she usually was.

And because now, he could bear to hear the answer, he asked again, "Why was I not enough for him? Why could I never get through to him?" Shado sighed softly, her arm tightening around him. Not for the first time, Tommy wondered how he could feel such things if he didn't have a corporeal body. His mother and Shado tried to explain it on several occasions, but almost broke all three of their brains. It just was, and maybe one of these days, he'd be able to accept that. Today, however, was not that day.

"Because there was something missing in him, Tommy. In him, not in you. And … it wasn't even missing, really, but buried. I think, in the beginning, it was a misguided way to protect you," Shado answered. Tommy looked at her, startled, and Shado nodded, continuing, "Think about it, Tommy … what better way to protect your son from the darkness that is taking you over, a darkness you believe you need to make sure no more Rebeccas die, than to shut him out?"

Tommy closed his eyes, because when he thought of the man whom his father was before his mother's murder? Yeah, that's exactly the sort of thing he would have done. He opened his eyes, saying softly, "I get that. But I would have rather had a dark father than none at all." He paused, thinking of his recent activities, before adding, "And I still think Joe Wilson or Kane Wolfman or whatever he's calling himself right now is an idiot. He may be justified in his anger with his father, but he's still an idiot."

Shado giggled (actually giggled!) before answering, "And I agree with you. So. Tell me all about what you've been doing in Austria, and then we'll check on your mum." Tommy laughed in turn, because he'd been having a lot of fun in deviling Joe Wilson. But as he began to explain his appearances in that crypt while the younger Agent Wilson was working, something was beginning to edge to the front of his mind, a parallel between his father and Oliver. If Shado was right, his father began shutting him out as a misguided way of protecting him … all this time, he'd assumed that Oliver never told him about being the Hood because he hadn't trusted Tommy. But what if Oliver was trying to protect him as well?

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: One thing that has always struck me about Malcolm … some of what twisted him into what he became was his own guilt over Rebecca's murder. There are three components (and Lord, now I sound like our priest) to it: he can't forgive the people in the Glades, he can't forgive himself, and he can't blame Rebecca. Part of Kali and Eleanor's job is to untwist it … but untwisting and remorse is only part of the process of atonement. A dear friend, my brother by mutual adoption, once put it this way … redemption also includes removing the habits that led to a person's fall. That's going to be the hardest part, I think.


	8. Chapter 7: A Circle of Family

Author's Notes: Hey, lookie here, a reasonable time between updates! I think part of it is things are winding down at work as the semester comes to a close (last day of classes is before Thanksgiving, and it's all downhill from there. In a good way, of course), but also, I've removed some of the pressure on myself by working on a few other things, so when I come back to this, my mind is clearer. Don't ask me how it works, it just does. As to what I'm working on, there was recently renewed interest in my _Torchwood_ stories, particular the stories which found the institute working with the Avengers. So, I'm going to try to finish out the 'season finale' story of _Lay My Honor in the Dust_, do a transition story to wrap up some of the dangling storylines, before moving into the new 'season,' tentatively titled _Something_ _Like_ _Forgiveness_, which tackles the _Infinity War_ movies. This remains my main focus, but that's what I'm working on when things stall on this or on my steampunk stew novel. And so, in this chapter, Grant does some thinking (that segment which was originally in the previous chapter); Rebecca gets a wonderful surprise; and the reunion between Oliver and Slade finally takes place.

Chapter Seven

A Circle of Family

Basement of Meg Carvalho's home

Same Time

Trying to go back to sleep hadn't worked, no matter how hard he tried, and so now he lay awake in the darkness, waiting for the sound of his father's footsteps coming back down the stairs. He'd tried counting sheep, tried the breathing exercises that Miss Lindy taught him for when a panic attack threatened, and most of all, and tried not to think about everything that happened today. It wasn't easy, though. In spite of Papa's best efforts, Grant woke up when he went back upstairs, grabbing his boots as he did. Something threw Papa off-kilter, and Grant wasn't sure if it was his grandfather's arrival, or something else. And he wasn't inclined to ask his father.

The truth was, he was worried about his father. That wasn't anything new for Grant during these last few months … the truth was, he'd been worrying about his father from the moment his mother died. Not because his papa was as heartbroken as Grant was, but because for the first time, he realized that he could lose his father just as easily as he lost his mother. And for all that he'd been made aware that his father could be a dangerous man, that meant he was also in danger. Before, it really wouldn't have mattered, because he hadn't known he had a father to lose. And for the first time, Grant understood his elder self's bitterness toward their mother.

Grant hadn't known that he had a father to lose, because he'd thought his father was already dead. He wasn't. He'd taken a mission, and that mission led him to be stranded for several years. And while Grant didn't know all about what happened to his papa while he was on that awful island, he knew that many of those things were terrible (somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected that his father did terrible things to survive, partly because his father sometimes alluded to things he'd done, but Grant didn't allow himself to think about that)

And maybe he shouldn't have, but he'd talked to Miss Meg about that once. Not just about the island, as little as he actually knew about it, but about thinking for so long that his father was dead. Maybe he should have talked to his father about it, but he knew those memories hurt his papa … and he really needed to talk to someone about the things he'd learned.

And Miss Meg was a good listener. Her hands were always moving, whether she was cooking, making coffee, washing the dishes or typing, but she always listened (okay, so she got distracted sometimes, but so did his papa and so had his mum). To his surprise, she actually understood … and now, he knew why. Oh, she hadn't known until today that her dad was like Grant's papa, but she never knew until she was about Grant's age that her father was alive.

They were sitting in the living room after clearing snow out of the driveway, working on a scrapbook … Miss Meg sipping on her tea, and Grant drinking hot chocolate. Papa was putting away the shovels, snowblower, and broom, while Angel was showering. The conversation actually started with Miss Meg telling him about her Aunt Chloe and Uncle Grady, who still lived in Baltimore (pausing long enough to point out Baltimore on a map), who raised her due to her mum's illness through Miss Meg's early years. It was then that she told him that she hadn't known about her father until she was almost twelve.

Her father was from Holland, she explained, and he'd spent a summer in the States, working at the Inner Harbor, where he'd met her mother (who was from Canada and also working at one of the restaurants at the Inner Harbor). At the end of the summer, he returned to the Netherlands … and soon after, her mother found out that she was pregnant with Miss Meg. For reasons she'd never explained, she decided to stay in Baltimore. But not just that, she also refused to tell her lover that he would be a father, and hid all letters she received from him after he returned home from them.

Miss Meg fell silent, and rather than ask the obvious question (why her mother would do it, go to such extremes), Grant instead asked an equally important question … to him, at least: how did her aunt and uncle find out? Miss Meg took a sip of her tea, before explaining that her mother began developing a mental illness around the time of Miss Meg's birth. She wasn't a hundred percent sure, as she wasn't in the medical field, but she believed that it was post-partum depression that was exacerbated by other things (Miss Lindy was in the medical field, but wouldn't make a secondhand diagnosis).

As a result, her mother spent most of Miss Meg's childhood swinging back and forth between being a semi-normal person and … not. Miss Meg didn't say much, just that her mother had good days, bad days … and sometimes, she had _really_ bad days, more frequently the older Miss Meg got. Then came the day she nearly killed a child in a parking lot because his mother supposedly cut her off in the grocery store, and Chloe Anderson realized that it was time to stop 'respecting' her sister's wishes. With her brother's assistance, she tracked down the letters which Bastiaan de Vries wrote to her twin, and wrote one in turn, telling him that he had a young daughter.

It took some time for the letter to get to him, for a variety of reasons … and in the meantime, Miss Meg finally began learning about her father, courtesy of the letters he'd written her mother. And then, a few weeks before her twelfth birthday, she received a letter of her own from her father. Grant piped up, 'best birthday present ever?' He was rewarded with a grin from Miss Meg, who acknowledged it really was the best birthday present she could have asked for.

It wasn't close to Grant's birthday when he met his own father … but if it hadn't been for the death of his mother, it would have been the best birthday/Christmas present imaginable the first time his father hugged him. So yes, Grant worried about his father, because aside from Miss Meg and Angel, his papa was all he had left in the world (his older brother didn't count because the last time he'd seen Joe … he didn't act like Grant's big brother anymore).

Now, weeks removed from that conversation, Grant lay awake in the basement. He wasn't sure at first about staying down here, since when people talked about basements, he thought they meant cold, dank, dark places, since those were the only kinds of basements he knew. This one wasn't. It was comfortable … almost like an apartment, only without a kitchen. They had their own bathroom, an unfinished walk-in closet that his father used as a workshop, and a corner where Grant could play with his soldiers and cars if he wanted to. They still weren't sure who would stay down here once the spare bedroom was cleaned up (and Grant already told his father that he wanted them to stay with Miss Meg). But it didn't matter, because for now he had a home.

The door to the basement opened and the familiar sound of his father's boots on the stairs allowed Grant to relax. He exhaled softly and closed his eyes as his father settled himself on the bed, easing the boots from his feet. He really shouldn't have been so surprised when Papa murmured, "Didn't mean to wake you, kiddo." Grant opened his eyes to see his father looking at him with a tired smile. Grant smiled back and reached out his hand. Papa took it, continuing, "I had some things to work through, went upstairs to work through them without waking you."

"Are you okay?" Grant asked softly. Papa smiled softly, his free hand ghosting over Grant's hair. Instead of answering right away, he pushed the two beds together … which meant Grant would be cuddling with his father tonight. The fact that he was doing that when Grant hadn't had a nightmare meant that it was his papa who needed the cuddling. The boy asked next, "What's wrong, did something happen?"

"Not a bad thing," Papa admitted, "I kissed Meg tonight. Not a big thing, I kissed her forehead when I told her good night … but it was still the first time I'd kissed someone in a long time." He sat down on his side of the bed and Grant immediately crawled into the circle of his father's arms. He didn't really know what to say, so he curled up, feeling Papa's arms tighten around him. He knew that kisses were for someone you loved, or someone you really, _really_ liked … and Miss Meg had been really good to them. He also knew that his father wasn't the sort of man who was free with his affection … but once he gave someone his love and his trust, it would take something truly awful to change that. (Grant didn't want to think about what _could_ change that. He suspected that he didn't want to know).

However, Grant was still mourning his mother, and as much as he liked the woman who opened her home to them (and often her arms to Grant himself), he really wasn't sure if he was ready to want her as a step-mother. It sounded like Papa wasn't ready to think about what that kiss could mean, either. And so, he simply cuddled against his father, taking comfort in his warmth and his strength and his love, until he could fall back to sleep.

That his father only went back to sleep just a few hours before dawn, still (over) thinking on the potential implications of that supposedly innocent kiss, Grant would never know.

DSDSDSDSDSDSDS

(Very) Early Morning

Cozy Inn

Destine, MO

Rebecca Merlyn curled up on her bed, arms wrapped around a pillow, alone in the motel room Dory obtained for her, still trembling. All attempts to getting sleep failed so far. Maybe she should have expected that. She … she'd seen her godson in the flesh tonight, for the first time since he was eight years old. She'd seen him, and for just a moment, she'd touched him. It wasn't the first time she'd touched someone and been touched since she awakened in Veronica Morales' body … but it was the first time she'd touched someone she loved before her death. She was glad it was Oliver … she was afraid that if she'd encountered her husband, even though he would have no idea who she was, she would have slapped him. Or worse. Maybe that was what triggered her meltdown (or exacerbated it).

She'd begun crying as soon as she got back to her motel room … great, heaving sobs that shook her body. She'd missed Oliver … and Moira … and even Robert … so very much, though not more than how much she missed her husband and her son. When Tommy joined her and Shado in the afterlife, there was a small part of her which was so glad her little boy was with her, and a larger part that hated herself for that joy. She was Tommy's mother, she wasn't supposed to see him for many, many years to come! There was something wrong with her, she was no better than Malcolm! (Yao Fei finally took her aside while Shado worked with Tommy about getting used to his new reality, and told her that a) if she really thought she was no better than her widower, she was as crazy as the aforementioned widower and b) he'd felt the same way when his treasured Shado joined him after her own death at the hands of Ivo).

Tommy. Shado. She hoped they were taking care of each other with her gone, she hoped neither of them did anything stupid (Rebecca wasn't entirely sure what she meant by stupid herself … maybe attract the attention of whatever brought her back?). She had little doubt that Shado was taking care of Tommy … almost as soon as he arrived in the afterlife, the young woman was looking after him and teaching him about his new reality, much as she'd once helped to train Oliver. Robert and Moira were in another section of the afterlife, working out some issues they'd still had at the time of his death. They would likely remain there, since Tommy didn't need them for the foreseeable future.

And Tommy … Tommy had his own way of looking after people. When he was a little boy, his favorite thing to do when Malcolm returned home from a particularly grueling day was to crawl up in his father's lap once Malcolm shucked the suit jacket and tie. Rebecca couldn't count the number of times she returned to the living room, to find her husband and son sound asleep. Of course, he was entirely too big to crawl up into Shado's lap (not that the reverse was true), but there was no doubt in her mind that he still found ways to look after his 'sister' whenever Rebecca wasn't around, not to mention calming and comforting Moira during Thea's 'training,' and oh, Rebecca had a few things to say to her husband about _that _whenshe finally saw him again. She now believed firmly in self-defense, but that wasn't it!

There was a gentle knock at the door, startling her. She knew very few people in Destine, and this wasn't the type of place that had room service. And, it was _very_ early in the morning. Rebecca hesitated, remembering the last few moments of her life … of her original life. She remembered the shot, the pain, her call to Malcolm, the gradual dimming of her vision. Then there was a second knock, still gentle, but a little more insistent. It occurred to her that a) if they meant her harm, they could come in through the window and b) she _did_ have a peephole.

With that in mind, she called, "One moment please!" She needed to wash her face and get cleaned up from her crying fit, and while she wasn't Rebecca Merlyn any more exactly, she suspected that Veronica Morales would feel the same way. Thus, two minutes after the second knock, she walked briskly to the door … and stumbled back a few steps after looking through the peephole. With trembling fingers, she undid the lock and opened the door, saying, "Why, Mayor Queen … what an unexpected surprise!" And immediately could have kicked herself, because yes, surprises were by their very nature unexpected!

But Oliver Queen just smiled at her gently and said, "Hi, Aunt Becca." Rebecca stared at him for a long second. Did … did he just say? His smile brightened and he added, "Yes, I know." Rebecca didn't even remember moving, didn't remember him moving, but between one breath and the next, she was in her godson's arms, held and holding on tight as she started crying again, apologizing. Oliver, to his credit, didn't ask her why, or what she was apologizing for. Just held on tight.

When the storm finally passed, Oliver pulled away a little, just enough to thumb away her tears, and say softly, "William is with Dory at the office. You're going to stay with us in our hotel and in our room. Don't worry … you won't have to leave the room unless you feel like it. He doesn't know who you are … not entirely at least. I told him that you saved me once, and that's all he needs to know. But I couldn't stay in a nicer hotel if you were here, alone. I lost you once, Aunt Becca … I'm not letting that happen, not again." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, before smiling at her gently and saying, "C'mon. I'll help you pack."

There were so many things wrong with that scenario, Rebecca couldn't even begin to pick one out. But she found herself nodding, because as much as she couldn't stand to be around people right now, she was also starting to realize that being alone wasn't helping her either. This … this was a compromise she could work with, and it would give her time to be near someone she'd loved throughout his life. She whispered, "I don't have much." Oliver smiled and kissed her forehead again, and Rebecca suddenly felt as though she was the child now … and wasn't that was he was? Reborn into another woman's body, more than twenty years after her murder? That was exactly what she was.

She could have told him even more. She could have told him that Veronica Morales' friend was the same woman who gave Slade and Grant Wilson. She could have told him about Shado, and about Tommy. And she would tell him, eventually, about his lover and about her son, in time. But not now. Now, she had packing to do. It took no more than five minutes, and when she was done, Oliver had her duffel bag in one hand and held her hand with the other (Tommy! Oliver! Take someone's hand, please!). She looked around her room, the first home she'd had since awakening in Veronica Morales' body. But it wasn't her home, not any more … really, it never was. She looked back at Oliver, who smiled and squeezed her hand. She smiled back, murmuring, "I'm ready."

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Destine Inn and Suites

Destine, MO

Later That Morning

William Clayton Queen sat in the back seat of Dory's car, patiently awaiting his father, who was still talking to Dr. Veronica in their room. Dory sat in the front seat, texting someone … William thought she said she needed to talk to her niece, but honestly, he was busy still getting warm. It was **COLD** here! He would have thought it would be colder in Star City, since it was further north, but Dad told him it was actually warmer at home due to the ocean currents, while this area was landlocked. He'd started to mention the island that now haunted both of their dreams, but stopped, as he usually did when the island came up.

Then again, once Dad came back from talking to Dr. Veronica (she saved him once … just how old did Dad think he was, six? Someone who saved you once didn't stare at you as if you were their long-lost kid. William had no idea who she really was, but she was a lot more important than just someone who saved his dad once), they would be heading to meet with another survivor of that island: Slade Wilson. William still had no idea what to call the man.

"You'll figure it out," Dory said from the front seat. William blinked and she repeated, "You'll figure it out, what to call Slade. Meg and Angel both call him 'Slade,' and his son Grant calls him 'Papa.' If you want to call him 'Uncle Slade,' which I admit sounds a bit weird, I'd advise checking with him first." Yeah, no kidding. He was just a bit scary. Not that he was ever unkind to William. Gruff, yes … but not unkind. In fact, the few times William interacted the man, he was actually gentle. Even so, he was still scary. Something he mentioned to Dory, who just laughed softly, answering, "If it helps at all, I think he scares himself sometimes." Uhm … William wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that … and said so. Dory's shoulders rose and fell, and she replied, "That's more than fair."

William would have said more, but it was then that his father emerged from the hotel, hands stuck in the heavy coat. The door opened, admitting a blast of extremely cold air, and then his father swung himself inside the truck. He said quietly, "She promised to call me if she needed me. I think she plans on getting some sleep, since she had a rough night last night." Dory nodded as she backed out of her parking space, and Dad went on, "Thank you for looking after her. I know, she's your friend, but she was always important to me … I'm glad she had a good person looking after her."

"It was my pleasure … she's a good person, didn't deserve any of the crap she went through," Dory answered as she headed toward the exit of the parking lot. She added softly, "None of you did, not even her husband, though he brought a lot of it on himself." William saw his dad's jaw tighten, and Dory added softly, "There was more going on than you realize, Oliver. I won't defend what he did, and I know he hurt you, hurt a lot of people you love, but there are things you don't know. He didn't become that twisted version of himself in a vacuum."

"It doesn't matter. He's dead," Dad answered flatly. He went on, his voice noticeably softer, "He died saving his daughter, probably the only good thing he did since Aunt Becca died. He died saving my sister, and while that doesn't allow me to forgive him for what he did, it does make it easier for me to remember who he used to be, before Aunt Becca was killed." Dory was silent as she drove, and Dad asked slowly, almost as if he was afraid of what Dory's answer would be, "Malcolm is dead … isn't he? There's no way he could have survived that mine, is there?" William thought about everything that happened on that awful island, and wondered.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," was all Dory said as she pulled out onto the highway. William noted the sign that indicated they were heading into downtown Destine. His dad, from what the boy could see of his face from the rearview mirror, looked poleaxed. The woman went on, "He is no threat to you, Oliver. Not now, and not ever again." There was a quiet surety to her voice, but William noted that she didn't say that he was dead. Something that Dad mentioned and Dory observed with a small smile, "No, I didn't, did I?"

And that was all she would say, no matter how much Dad pestered her for the rest of the drive. William rolled his eyes, because there were times when his dad acted like the kid William was. Not many, since William came to live with him, but they had happened. He snuggled against the side of the door, where warm air was blowing, and tuned out his father's wheedling. Dory finally told him to put a sock in it, that he was behaving like the kid he was when he first met Slade Wilson. Dad asked a bit suspiciously how she knew that, and she just said one word. Shadow. What shadows had to do with what Dad was like when he first got to the island, William had no idea, but it shut his father up until they got to the Carvalho house.

It was a modest, two-story home, the kind of house William would have liked to live in, if he and his mom didn't live in the city. Dory pulled into the drive and exhaled slowly. She turned to face them both, saying, "Okay. So. This is where Slade and Grant have been staying for the last few months. I know you know, Oliver, I have a point to this. Slade may not have realized it, he probably hasn't allowed himself to think about it, but this has become his home, has become their home. Meg and her daughter Angel are becoming their family. That means, Oliver, that while by default it makes them part of your family, you are still a guest here."

His father answered quietly, almost gently, "I know that. I promise I won't do anything to cause trouble or make a mess. You're right, just by virtue of looking after my brother, Meg and Angel are family. What you don't realize is that means I'll protect them like my family. Okay?" Dory smiled at that, and nodded, and all three of them got out of the pick-up. William and his dad followed Dory to the front door, which she rapped four times and then two times. There was a particular rhythm to that, but William didn't recognize it. The door opened within a minute, revealing a young girl, somewhere between him and Aunt Thea in age. She had long dark hair, and was dressed an oversized shirt and leggings.

Her eyes lit up when she saw Dory, calling over her should, "Mom! It's Dory … and a really cute guy … and a kid." William would have glared at her, but considering she was at least three years older than he was, couldn't really argue with her. A woman came up behind the girl, resting her hand lightly on her shoulder. She was older than Dad, though it was hard to tell by much, as her skin was still smooth and there was some silver in her hair. And then, behind her, was Slade Wilson, hovering over the woman and girl protectively … though why he would need to protect them from Dory, he wasn't really sure.

Slade Wilson's single brown eye focused on Dad, and he breathed, "Kid?" William looked up at his father, in time to see a smile blossom on his face. A glance back at the other man told him that a similar smile was appearing on his face. Meg Carvalho gently pulled her daughter to one side as Slade Wilson went on, "What … what are you doing here?" Dad's smile turned impish, and the other man said, his voice taking on a warning tone, "Kid?"

"I don't suppose you'd accept, '_just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to borrow a cup of sugar_,' would you?" Dad inquired, grinning broadly. William almost laughed at the exasperation on the other man's face, and Dad continued, actually laughing at his brother's reaction, "Yeah, didn't think so. The truth is, I'm here in a somewhat official capacity, as the mayor of Star City … signing some paperwork."

"What kind of paperwork? And come in, all three of you … take off your boots, please don't track snow in the house. By the way, I'm Meg Carvalho, this is my daughter Angel … I know that you're Oliver Queen, and you would have to be his son William," the woman observed. William happily left the snow behind for the warmth of the house … and oh, it was nice and toasty inside. It also smelled of cinnamon and coffee, and maybe sausage. They were probably just finishing up breakfast, since it was ten am on a Saturday. Mrs. Carvalho went on, "Can I get anyone anything … coffee, hot tea, hot chocolate?" William perked up at this last and she added with a gentle smile, "A yes to the hot chocolate, then. Angel, honey, I'll leave that to you. And, Mayor Queen, what did you mean about paperwork?"

"First, my name is Oliver … we're practically family. And, I'm in town to sign preliminary paperwork for the beginning of a sister-city partnership between Star City and Destine. Figured since I was in town anyhow, I'd swing by and say hello to an old friend," Dad responded with a smirk. William looked from his father to Slade Wilson, whose expression held both affection and exasperation. The youngster suspected that was his default expression when it came to his dad. And then his lips turned up in a smirk, one that had Dad looking at him warily.

The man turned to William, his smile broadening as he added, "In that case … why don't you call me 'Uncle Slade,' kiddo?" William knew his eyes lit up at the offer, and his newfound uncle's smile softened. He called over his shoulder, "Grant … come meet your uncle and your cousin." A young boy slipped around the Carvalhos to stand at his uncle's side. He was about William's age, or maybe a little younger, with black hair and brown eyes. He smiled shyly at William as his father said softly, "William, this is my son, Grant." He rested his hands on the other boy's shoulders as Grant hesitantly held his own hand out to William. The American boy didn't hesitate at all in taking it. And he _knew_, he knew without any doubt whatsoever, that this boy would be his best friend for the rest of his life … and beyond.

TBC


	9. Chapter 8: Let Yesterday Go

Author's Notes: Okay … first things first. Despite the five-month hiatus, I'm fine … Slade and Grant decided to get stubborn on me all of a sudden. Like everyone else during this outbreak, I'm at home most of the time, as I'm considered essential personnel rather than mandatory (in the case of our college, mandatory means I need to be at the office … essential means that I get a laptop from work). I'm teleworking, processing what I can and going into work a few hours per week to take care of the things in the office I can't do from home. That's been going on for about two weeks now, and I'm slowly adjusting. I completed one project and have begun another, something I've been waiting to do for nearly four years, but never had the time to do it. Well, now I do. So that's going on. I had a great trip to New Zealand … spent six days primarily hanging around in my bach, walking along the beach, and occasionally walking down to the local convenience store. Next year, I'm planning to go to Switzerland. That brings me to the story, which tells the Wilson/Carvalho side of the events leading up to Slade and Oliver coming face to face once more. In this chapter, Meg has her own demons to fight; Slade isn't entirely sure what to expect after the Kiss; while Grant meets someone who will be a lifelong friend. Oh, and the chapter title comes from the Enya song mentioned in this chapter, '_My, My (Time Flies).'_

Chapter Eight

Let Yesterday Go

Destine, MO

Home of Meg Carvalho

She jolted awake, trembling and just a gasp away from a scream … only to find herself in a large bed, entirely too large for one person. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was and when she was: Destine, Missouri, in the year 2018, rather than Baltimore in the 1980's. Meg sighed, running her hand over her face, unsure if the moisture on her skin was sweat or tears, and not entirely sure if it really mattered. It was a while since she last had that dream. It was a constant companion when she was a child, in the days, weeks, and months after her mother's … episode … at the supermarket. She couldn't count the number of the times Aunt Chloe comforted her, whispering, '_it's okay, baby, she didn't hurt you, she didn't hurt that little boy, everything is okay_.'

She wasn't entirely sure what triggered the nightmare this time … well, yeah, Papa reminded her that contrary to what she told Slade, she'd been seven when that happened, rather than ten … but that was it. And like he told her, Slade didn't regard it as a betrayal or even as a lie. Just what it was, an attempt to deal with an experience no one should ever go through. Which, yeah, was nice to know … even if she wasn't entirely sure why Slade would regard it as a betrayal. She may have gotten her age wrong, but the events actually happened, so it wasn't even a lie. She muttered under her breath, "No, I couldn't get lucky enough to have a dream about Slade kissing me … nope, it had to be a nightmare about Mommie Dearest being off her meds."

Admittedly, she wasn't being fair to her mother … when she was on the meds that actually worked, Clarissa was a wonderful mother. It was when she went off her meds, when her meds conflicted with each other and she wasn't honest with her doctors about it … that was when things went wrong. It took Meg years to come to terms with that … it took her even longer to accept that her mother's medical condition was not her fault.

And, it was about half an hour before she would have awakened anyhow, so rather than try to go back to sleep (and fail miserably), she would instead get up. Try to get some things accomplished that she wasn't able to do the previous day, when her father and Slade's arrived so unexpectedly. Not that Meg was particularly upset. She was always happy to see her own father, and as for Slade's … Well, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on with him, but she trusted her father's instincts, and even if Grant had little use for his grandfather, even if Slade was wary, she was inclined to cut Gideon Wilson slack. At least, until he gave her reason to give him just enough rope to hang himself.

Of course, that drew her mind to Slade, and the Kiss. Yes, she capitalized it in her mind … never mind it was merely a kiss on her forehead, it was the first kiss she'd received from a man other than her father or uncle in the last ten years. Oh. Well. Uhm … it would seem that her friends and neighbors might have a point about the number of men she'd dated or even shown an interest in since she lost Stephen, if she was reacting this way to a simple kiss on her forehead when they said good night. But … it was _Slade_.

Meg growled under her breath and threw on a pair of sweats that definitely saw better days (okay, fine, it was one of her favorite pairs of sweats … she'd gotten it to the perfect degree of softness, without the annoying pills that irritated her skin so badly) and an overly-large t-shirt that Stephen left in the apartment before departing for Destine. She thought for a matter of seconds about pulling her hair back into a scrunchie (and who the hell left a scrunchie on her bedside table? To the best of her recollection, her daughter hadn't been wearing one yesterday, and Meg knew she wasn't), before deciding it was too much of a headache: literally.

With that settled, she padded into the kitchen barefoot, making sure to turn on one of the lamps as she did. A brief glance downward (because Grant was still getting the hang of taking his toys back downstairs and walking on Hot Wheels cars could be nearly as painful as stepping on Legos, as Meg learned during the last few weeks) warned her that her toenail polish was starting to chip … so it was time for a new coat. And maybe a new color? Nah … red worked just fine. She would leave the experimentation to her daughter and her friends. At least … that kind of experimentation. All the blood rushed to her face and she muttered under her breath about keeping her thoughts PG-rated. Easier said than done.

Once inside the kitchen, she flicked on the light, trying to figure out where to start. It wasn't that the kitchen was dirty, as such. It just … with four people living in the house, rather than two, some tasks received more attention than others. Also, the way she had things organized no longer worked. But, she would start with the few things that did actually need cleaning. Like the floor. It was Angel and Grant's responsibility to sweep the floor in the kitchen (as well as the patios), and they did a fairly good job of it, but it needed a good mopping. She'd start there … and maybe working on that would clear her mind, would stop the voice in the back of her mind, wondering what other things from her childhood she misremembered.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

It had become Slade's custom over the last several weeks, ever since Grant was found, to remain in the basement even after he awakened. Although he was getting better with every day that passed, Grant still suffered from separation anxiety, especially when he first woke up. And so, Slade would stay in the basement for a time, no matter how early he actually awakened, only heading upstairs once Grant began to stir. Unfortunately, as ever, that gave Slade entirely too much time to think … especially about saying good night to Meg the previous evening, and working through his calisthenics didn't help. Not a good sign.

Finally, as Grant began to make the little noises indicating that he was waking up, the former ASIS agent bent over and brushed a light kiss across his son's forehead, before heading upstairs into the main part of the house. It was still fairly early, but he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen and faint singing coming from the living room. With a small smile, he headed in that direction, bypassing the living room to go straight to the kitchen. He needed to get this over with (and really, the fact that he was this worried about Meg's reaction would have made Deathstroke howl with laughter … or indignation).

And yes, Slade feared things would be awkward in the morning between himself and Meg, thanks to the kiss the previous night. Then again, maybe he was just being an idiot about all of this … after all, kissing someone's forehead as you told her good night was hardly something to get excited about? Right? (_Yeah, Wilson, you keep telling yourself that … and just who was the last woman you kissed, for any reason_?) Fortunately, however, as he entered the kitchen that morning, he was greeted with Meg in her favorite ratty sweats and oversized t-shirt, barefoot and smiling, as she dropped two halves of an English muffin into the toaster. He glanced around, noting the changes in the kitchen … and yes, he did notice the changes. From a tactical standpoint, he needed to check those out, to make sure that they didn't impact his ability to protect this woman and these two children. He didn't think they would, but it required more investigation, just to be safe. (He also realized that Meg was up very early this morning, since she'd been on the verge of going to bed the previous night. What that meant remained to be seen … and it might mean nothing at all. Not that he believed that)

"Morning, Slade … any thoughts about what we're doing today? Maybe taking our dads to the center?" Meg asked cheerfully as she slipped two small plates out of the cabinet. She smiled at him, and the look of befuddlement he just knew he was wearing when he glanced inside the living room to see Angel's legs in the air over the back of the sofa as she sang something about someone forgetting to wear shoes (no doubt the source of the singing he heard when he first came upstairs). Strange child. Then again, maybe he should have been used to that.

"I thought so, yeah. I know you want your father to see it, and I don't imagine _my _father is interested in letting me or Grant out of his sight," Slade answered … and that was something new. Rephrase, he didn't remember his father being particularly interested in him while he was growing up. Then again, people changed … he had only to look at himself to realize that. And, he remembered a movie he saw as a teenager, in which the hero's father mentioned that he'd left just as he was getting interesting. Maybe that was the case here.

"Point … besides, I don't think _my_ father wants to leave _your_ father alone anywhere. He muttered something last night about how your father has no common sense whatsoever and he could find life-threatening trouble under a kitchen sink," Meg answered and Slade absolutely did not snort at her response (of course he didn't, why on earth would someone think such a thing). Besides, her father was right … it seemed to be a trait common among the males of the Wilson line (and yes, Slade was self-aware enough to admit that was true of him as well). She went on, sounding thoughtful, "And speaking of your father … did you happen to notice how Grant reacted to him?" Not … really? Meg inclined her head, adding, "He doesn't have much use for his grandfather. Angel actually heard him say that if your father hurt you again, Grant would do … something." Slade had no idea what his expression looked like, but Meg grinned, adding, "First experience with a child being protective of you, huh?"

If you counted Oliver … which Slade didn't, since he was technically an adult when they met, even if Slade called him 'kid,' … then yes. He remembered Oliver becoming quite protective of him on the island. But again, Slade called him 'kid,' but that was because Oliver several years younger than himself. At last, he shook his head and Meg's grin broadened as she told him, "Well, you're going to have an interesting time of it, between my daughter and your son."

"They do realize it's not their job to protect me?" Slade asked, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. Meg smirked and dragged over a step-ladder with her bare foot, before clambering up and stepping on the counter opposite him to retrieve the honey. With a sigh, Slade unfolded his arms and took the three steps needed to put his hand on Meg's waist to steady her, and oh, maybe that wasn't such a great idea after all. Judging from the way she tensed under his hand, she seemed to agree … but then she relaxed. Slade, however, did not.

"You do realize that it doesn't matter to them? You matter to them, so they're protective of you. That's the way it works, Slade," Meg answered over her shoulder, a tiny smile hovering about her lips. He had only to think of the island, and Oliver's reaction when he was shot, and had to concede she had a point. He never thought of it in those terms, but yeah, now that he thought about it … yeah, the kid did become protective of him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge, aside from accept it. And thankfully, she changed the subject, asking, "What do you think Grant will want for breakfast? I know when Angel was his age, things tended to go in cycles, and right now, he seems to be following the same pattern."

He had noticed his younger son doing that, and with a pang, realized Joe did the same thing. He made a mental note to check in with some of his contacts. Oh, he knew where Joe was, and he knew what he was doing … but he also had contacts of his own in Vienna who could keep an eye on his boy. Valentina Auer was a damn capable woman, but Joe was his son, and … well, did anything else really need to be said? No … but Joe was also an adult, while Grant was a child, and right now, Grant needed him more. He answered, "Yeah, probably the same thing he's had for the last week. Then again, I suppose I was much the same way when I was a kid."

For the second time in the last few minutes, Meg froze, and Slade wondered at the reason this time. There was a long silence as she finally found the honey (where was it stashed, in the very back? Not where she usually put it), and placed in the counter below her. She tapped his hand lightly and he backed away, allowing her to descend the step-ladder. Meg answered softly, "Right now, I don't trust half of my memories from when I was a kid." She looked up at him through her fringe, adding, "My father told me last night that the Incident at the supermarket happened when I was seven, not when I was ten. It doesn't seem like it's that big of a deal, but at the same time … if I misremembered that, what other things have I misremembered?"

Oh. OH. Bloody hell! Slade lifted his hands to rest them on her shoulders (she was so tiny, why had he never noticed how very tiny she was), before allowing them to drop to his sides once more helplessly. He finally answered, "You didn't imagine what happened to you, what happened to that little boy, Meg. You may have gotten the timing wrong, but you didn't imagine something that didn't happen, whether to make yourself a victim or a hero. I don't think you have anything to worry about." And because something just coalesced in his mind that he should have realized some time ago, he added, "And you certainly didn't betray me by misremembering something that traumatized you so badly."

Meg's shoulders slumped and she said softly, "I know you don't give your trust lightly, Slade, and the last thing I want … at least where you're concerned … is for you to think that I've misled you in anyway. Thank you. I needed to hear that." Now Slade did hesitantly rest his hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. She took a deep breath, offered him a smile, and said, "Okay … so, I should make cinnamon toast for the kids. I have an English muffin for myself, what about you? And don't say you'll make it yourself, I'm already fixing breakfast, so don't argue with me."

Slade bit back a snicker at that, answering, "As my lady commands me. Sausage and eggs is fine. Should I go ahead and get Grant up? Or rather, make sure Grant is up?" She bobbed her head in agreement before turning her attention to the refrigerator to get his sausage and eggs. And because when it came to these two females, he just couldn't let anything go, he added, "By the way, what exactly is Angel doing? I heard her singing when I came upstairs." He did not, however, mention seeing her legs waving in the air.

Meg glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, answering, "She suddenly wanted Christmas music, and popped in one of my Enya CD's. She's been singing along with her ever since she got up." Slade had no idea who Enya was, and was fairly sure he didn't want to ask why Angel was listening to Christmas music in February. He learned some time ago that trying to understand the mind of a teenage girl was … well. It just didn't work. Also a recipe for madness, and he'd had enough of that, albeit a different type of madness.

So, instead of commenting on Angel's odd taste and timing in music, he answered, "Right. Then I'll go check on Grant … we'll be back up here in a few minutes. Any idea what time you want to leave for the Center? Or do you want to talk about that later?" Meg raised two fingers over her shoulder, which someone else would have taken as a salute, but Slade knew meant option two. Okay. Option two, it was. He would leave Angel and her desire to hear Christmas music close to Valentine's Day to her mother.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

Grant heard the clomp of his father's boots long before Papa's legs could be seen in the light of the hallway. Still, he remained curled up in the blankets, not quite ready to leave their warmth. Besides, Papa always woke him up in the morning, that was just the way it was. Sure enough, Grant felt his father's gentle hand ruffling his hair, and the little boy opened his eyes. Papa smiled at him, saying, "Good morning, son … Miss Meg is making cinnamon toast for you. It should be ready by the time you get dressed."

"I like the way Miss Meg makes cinnamon toast," Grant said as he kicked his way out of the covers, "she says that's how her aunt and uncle always made it for her." His father just smiled and handed Grant his clothes. The boy changed quickly, because he was hungry, especially now that the door to the upstairs was open and the smell of food wafted downstairs. Once he was dressed, Grant marched upstairs after his father (who didn't take the steps two at a time … Papa did that sometimes, but tried not to when Grant was around. That was Grant's fault … he'd tried imitating Papa and nearly fell on the stairs).

Once in the main part of the house, the two Wilsons met first Angel, who was waiting for them in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. For some reason, she blushed when she looked at Papa, and when Grant looked over his shoulder, he saw that his father was smirking. But neither of them said anything, and Papa steered him into the kitchen, where Miss Meg was taking the cookie sheet with cinnamon toast out.

She smiled at him, telling him '_good morning_,' before nodding to the kitchen sink for him to wash his hands. While he did that, Angel began setting the table while Papa listened to whatever Miss Meg was saying. He made a small face at her request, much to Grant's amusement, and Miss Meg just patted his cheek. Grant remembered what Papa told him the night before, about kissing Miss Meg's forehead when they said good-night … and then he wondered if the reason Papa was making a face now was because Miss Meg asked him to get her father (whom Grant liked fine) and his own grandfather (whom he didn't) for breakfast.

Grant was proven right a moment later when Papa said a bit begrudgingly, "All right … just don't be surprised if at least one of them doesn't come down. My father doesn't tend to eat breakfast, and when he does, it tends to be light. Besides, I distinctly remember putting in a kitchenette in the garage apartment." Something Grant remembered as well, but Papa turned toward the door. As he did, a wicked grin appeared on Miss Meg's face as she stealthily removed the dish towel from its place atop the dry dishes … unfolded it … and flicked it at Papa. That drew a yelp from Papa, and '_ew_' from Angel, and an outright cackle from Miss Meg. Papa actually blushed and growled at Miss Meg, "Not in front of the children, Margreet!"

Even Grant knew that those were fighting words, and Miss Meg glowered at him, as she brandished the dish towel in her hand a second time. Papa muttered something under his breath about discretion being the better part of valor, but it was .then that there were a series of knocks at the door: four raps, followed by two … a rhythm Grant came to recognize whenever Miss Dory came to visit. she rapped four times and then two times. Grant, Angel and the two adults stopped what they were doing, and then Miss Meg nodded to Angel. She did that when they were all in the same room, Grant noticed, and Papa said it was to prevent everyone from rushing to the front door (Angel muttered to Grant that it was also to keep Papa from scaring whoever was at the door. Grant wanted to protest, but he really couldn't.). The girl practically bounced to answer the knocks, and Papa murmured to Grant to pick up where Angel left off.

Grant didn't even have the chance to start, because only seconds later, Angel called, "Mom! It's Dory, and a really cute guy, and a kid." As Grant knew, 'kid' was anyone younger than Angel herself, so that didn't really tell him anything. Miss Meg and Papa shared a look, then, as one, all three joined Angel at the front door (Grant taking up position behind both Papa and Miss Meg), to find Miss Dory and … was that … ? Grant looked up at his father, who was smiling faintly at the man (the really 'cute' guy Angel mentioned, probably). Papa breathed, "Kid?" Miss Meg gently pulled Angel to one side as Papa asked, "What … what are you doing here?" Grant looked from his papa to the strange man (who was smiling mischievously), back to Papa, who repeated, now with a warning tone that Grant recognized, "Kid?"

"I don't suppose you'd accept, '_just happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to borrow a cup of sugar_,' would you?" the man asked, grinning broadly. Grant noticed the other boy almost laugh at Papa's expression, and the strange man went on, now laughing outright, "Yeah, didn't think so. The truth is, I'm here in a somewhat official capacity, as the mayor of Star City … signing some paperwork."

"What kind of paperwork? And come in, all three of you … take off your boots, please don't track snow in the house. By the way, I'm Meg Carvalho, this is my daughter Angel … I know that you're Oliver Queen, and you would have to be his son William," Miss Meg invited. Grant blinked …. this was his uncle Oliver? He heard Papa talk about him! The three accepted Miss Meg's offer, everyone except Miss Dory removing their boots and standing in the house in their sock feet. Miss Meg went on, "Can I get anyone anything … coffee, hot tea, hot chocolate?" The other boy, William, perked up at this last and she added with a gentle smile, "A yes to the hot chocolate, then. Angel, honey, I'll leave that to you. And, Mayor Queen, what did you mean about paperwork?"

"First, my name is Oliver … we're practically family. And, I'm in town to sign preliminary paperwork for the beginning of a sister-city partnership between Star City and Destine. Figured since I was in town anyhow, I'd swing by and say hello to an old friend," Mr. Queen (Uncle Oliver) responded with a smirk. Grant still wasn't sure what to call this man, but in the privacy of his heart, he thought of him as his uncle. Papa made it official a few minutes later.

He looked at the boy, saying, "In that case … why don't you call me 'Uncle Slade,' kiddo?" The other boy lit up at Papa's words, and Papa called, "Grant, come and meet your uncle and cousin." Grant slipped around Miss Meg, parking himself beside his father. He offered both his uncle Oliver and his new cousin a shy smile as Papa said quietly, "William, this is my son, Grant." His hands came to rest on Grant's shoulders, and the youngster reached out hesitantly to the American boy. For his own part, William didn't hesitate to take his hand.

Miss Dory said softly, "I'll be back later to pick you both up. Meg … Angel. Take care of these foolish boys." Grant looked up at Miss Meg, who merely smiled as Angel returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, which William happily accepted. Miss Meg began shooing everyone into the living room, and Grant briefly wondered about his grandfather and Angel's, if Miss Meg still needed someone to go retrieve them. However, Miss Dory added, "I'll let the two old spies know that it's time for breakfast."

Grant saw his father and Miss Meg exchange a quick glance, and Uncle Oliver just frowned … an expression that turned to outright shock a moment later when Miss Dory went on, sounding almost wistful, "You know, Shado would be so proud of you both right now … her boys found a way back to each other. No, she wouldn't_ be_ proud of you … she _is_ proud of you." And with those words, Miss Dory left the house, heedless of the apparent bombshell she just dropped on Grant's father and uncle.

Everyone stood frozen for several moments, until Uncle Oliver said in a very small voice, "Slade, did she just …?" Papa nodded, his eyes still on the front door through which Miss Dory just exited. Miss Meg and Angel just looked at each other, their expressions as lost as Grant felt. Who was Shado? Why would she be proud of Papa and Uncle Oliver? And could they finally have breakfast? However, it seemed Uncle Oliver wasn't finished yet, for he added, "And just who are these old spies she mentioned?"

Miss Meg actually snickered at that, and Papa answered with a sigh, "My father and Meg's. Have a seat in the kitchen, kid … we haven't eaten yet, and there's a lot I have to tell you, preferably before they get downstairs." Grant found himself being nudged into the kitchen, where he found his cinnamon toast on a plate, with his orange juice alongside. He took his place at the table, whilst his father and Miss Meg located some (an) additional seat for Uncle Oliver, in the form of her favorite kitchen stool, which also had a small footstool, before jumping up onto the kitchen counter. Grant hid a smile behind his orange juice at his father's exasperated expression, since he knew how much Papa hated when Miss Meg did that.

And it was Miss Meg who explained, "What Slade's trying to tell you, M … I mean, Oliver, is that his father and mine have been on again, off again partners in crime for the last thirty years or so, based on what my father told me last night. Ever since I first got to know my father, I believed that he worked with museums, traveling with exhibits to help set them up in new cities. It wasn't until yesterday that I learned he actually works as a liaison with several intelligence agencies, including ASIS, which is how he met Gideon Wilson. He also …" Miss Meg swallowed hard, blinking back tears, but forced herself to continue, "He also founded the Jackals as a semi-independent agency … going the places ASIS or the CIA couldn't go. He … he was on a mission when my husband was killed in the line of duty, and couldn't make it back in time for the funeral, and wanted to find some way to prevent … well, he wanted to protect people. Unfortunately, the Jackals ended up perverting that purpose."

Papa picked up, adding, "Normally, we wouldn't have told you about this right away, kid, but since Dory dropped that particular bombshell, it was best that you had all the information at your disposal, before our fathers arrive." Uncle Oliver nodded, obviously processing this information. Grant turned his own attention to his breakfast, to the taste of the cinnamon on his tongue, allowing the voices of the adults (plus Angel) to wash over him.

At least until his grandfather and Angel's threw open the front door … which had all of the adults around Grant on their feet, each of them reaching for some sort of weapon. Rephrase that … his own grandfather threw open the front door, with Angel's grandfather right behind him, looking annoyed. Then again, Grant was starting to realize that was what Angel called his default state where Grant's own grandfather was concerned. Grant didn't blame him … as far as he was concerned, his grandfather tended to screw things up.

He would learn later that day just how right he was, when his grandfather hurt his father, yet again.

TBC


	10. Chapter 9: Concerning Brothers

Author's Notes: In the 'okay, I'm an airhead' category, I realized when I started working on this chapter that Oliver already knew about Shado, as he encountered her in the diner. So, I did some re-tooling of his reaction in the second block, telling his side of the story. (Hint, he's still shocked, just for a different reason). Sorry 'bout that, y'all … I'm pleading a mixture of the heat, work, and trying to keep the details of my original novel (which is almost done) straight. Go me! And yes, that's what's kept me distracted from my various fics … that plus work and planning my trips for next year. With regards to the novel (now titled _Enemy Within the Gates_), I'm in the process of putting together a story bible, so I don't trip myself up with the details. I'm hoping to have that done in the next few weeks, start editing it, and upload it to Amazon by Thanksgiving or Christmas. So, in this chapter, we have Angel reacting to the newcomers (especially Oliver … or, as she calls him, Mayor Hottie); Oliver and Slade talk; while the old spies consider their respective children.

Chapter Nine

Concerning Brothers

Carvalho home

Destine, MO

On a scale of ten to five, that probably qualified as a fifty in terms of dropping a bomb on people. Angel Carvalho stood at her mother's side as the newcomers (plus their boys … and yes, that was exactly how Angel thought of Slade and Grant) tromped into their kitchen. Grant and William were steered into seats as their respective fathers took seats of their own. Angel snickered at the usual bickering that cropped up between her mother and Slade whenever Mom decided to use the kitchen counter as a jungle gym. Oliver Queen was still in shock, numbly taking a sip of the orange juice Mom put in front of him in between getting everything else together (including she and Slade taking turns at explaining Dory's other comments).

Of course, that was when her grandfather and Grant's came inside. No, that wasn't quite right-that was when Grant's grandfather all but threw the door off the hinges, and her own grandfather came in behind him, swearing in English, Dutch, and French, as well as a few other languages Angel didn't recognize. That, in turn, had Mayor Hottie on his feet, reaching for a weapon with one hand, and holding out the other hand (really, his other arm) to protect Grant and William. For their own parts, Mom and Slade were doing much the same thing, with Mom relaxing a half second before Slade did, looking _very_ put out.

She folded her arms over her chest, glowering at Mr. Wilson (Opa taking a discreet step sideways, so that he wasn't in range of her glare), and said, "You know, I'm fairly sure that they have the same rules of courtesy in Australia that they do in the US … such as, it's considered polite to knock on someone's door before barreling in? Am I wrong, Slade?" Behind him, Mayor Hottie (well, what was she supposed to call him? She hadn't yet received permission to call him by his first name!) sighed and slumped back into his chair. The boys, Angel was amused to see, hadn't stopped eating.

."That is considered polite, yes," was Slade's rather dry answer. He slowly sat down again, saying, "Kid, this is my father, Gideon Wilson … one of the old spies, as Dory called them. Father, this is Oliver Queen. We were together on Lian Yu." Mom had gone to greet Opa, so she didn't see the way Mayor Hottie's eyes narrowed when he looked at Mr. Wilson. Even Angel, who had just met the man a few moments earlier, could tell that he recognized Mr. Wilson's name. However, he merely inclined his head. And judging from the way Mr. Wilson looked at Mayor Hottie, he also recognized him … not just his name, but him, the man. Angel shifted, feeling uncomfortable, and not entirely sure why. However, it was then that Mom returned to the table, Opa trailing behind her. Opa smiled at Slade, waved to Grant, and rolled his eyes at Mr. Wilson's back. Angel tried extremely hard not to snicker … Opa looked _sooo_ exasperated by his friend's antics.

"Oliver, I'd like you to meet my father, Bastiaan de Vries. Dad, this is Oliver Queen and his son William," Mom said and Opa's smile, always bright when he looked at Mom or Angel, didn't dim. He stepped forward and shook Mayor Hottie's hand, inclining his head at the same time. And Mayor Hottie, for his own part, rose to his feet. Angel, who was having a really hard time looking away from him, noticed that he'd also recognized Opa … as well as his name. She was debating with herself if it would be worth asking the question, when the answer presented itself.

Mayor Hottie said, "You, sir, are a legend … I've always wanted to meet the man who could make Amanda Waller lose her sh … ah … lose her composure." Opa outright grinned at that, in a way she'd learned that Mayor Hottie's words were something that made Opa very, very proud. Which meant that this Amanda Waller was, as Mom would say, a real piece of work … and not in a good way. So, Angel needed to get the dirt on this chick later. And maybe she needed to talk to Aunt Lindy as well. Mom had been seriously busy with the youth center over the last few weeks, and hadn't had the opportunity to update Aunt Lindy on the latest news (not gossip, she didn't gossip, her mother taught her better than that).

"The pleasure is mine … I have heard quite a few things about you as well, Oliver Queen. Anyone who can stand up to Amanda Waller, regardless of the outcome, is deserving of my respect," Opa answered, looking decidedly mischievous. He turned his attention to Slade, adding, "Good morning, Slade … my apologies for being unable to keep your father from charging down here like an elephant on steroids." That provoked an indignant squawk from Mr. Wilson, a snicker from Mayor Hottie, and a suddenly-mischievous grin from Slade. Mr. Wilson opened his mouth to argue, but Mom intervened.

"There is breakfast on the table. Eat," she all but ordered. Angel wondered if there was anyone else as amused as she was at the two legendary-in-their-circle spies meekly going to the table at the say-so of a petite woman. The girl cast a sidelong look at Slade, whose smile turned wicked. Nope, definitely not the only one. And the boys … well, the boys were shoveling it in. As boys do. She mentally patted herself on the back for not being like that as she took her place beside her mother at the table and slowly, the conversation started back up again.

DSDSDSDSDS

It was rare when Oliver managed to fool Slade … but he really wasn't sure if this counted as 'fooling' him. Slade was as stunned by Dory's 'revelation' as Oliver pretended to be, and he really wasn't paying attention to Oliver, so it wasn't as hard as it normally would have been. The truth was, he _was_ stunned … just not by the revelation that Shado was watching over them both, as implied by Dory. No, he was stunned that Dory _made_ that particular revelation. One thing he'd learned about her since his arrival … Dory had reasons for what she did. In other words, she'd chosen this time and place deliberately for revealing Shado's awareness of them. The reason for the choosing of this time and place was something he was still figuring out.

Besides, there were other things to consider … such as the newcomer now seated at the table, eating breakfast. Well, both of the newcomers … both of the 'old spies,' as Dory put it. One was a man he'd admired, if only for his ability to get under the late Amanda Waller's skin … without her being able to do anything about it. Amanda Waller couldn't touch Bastiaan de Vries, and she knew it, and it drove her insane. Whether it was because she didn't know about his daughter … or the consequences of harming Margreet Anderson Carvalho were too devastating for her consider using de Vries' daughter against him, Oliver didn't know.

The other man was known to him as well … but Oliver hadn't as much respect for him. He hadn't known that he was Slade's father, when he saw the other man at Lian Yu, but now that he did … well, so much made sense. Including how he was arguing with Lyla. This was before Slade returned to himself … regained his marbles, as he so succinctly put it during their conversation in his cell … but Oliver was never quite able to let go of the hope that he would regain what he lost with Slade. Too attached? Probably. But it was Slade. And really, that was all that needed to be said.

Which brought him to the other reason Oliver was here in Destine. Slade … and the woman who opened her home to him and his young son. Meg Carvalho, who sat opposite Oliver, and listened to the conversations around them. Ever so often, their eyes would meet and she would smile gently at him, before returning her attention to the current conversation or throwing in an observation of her own. That allowed Oliver to observe her. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, as Slade really hadn't said much about her in terms of what she was like … just what she'd done for him and Grant.

Which, now that he thought about it, was about right. When all was said and done, Slade was about deeds, not words. Or rather, you didn't pay attention to what Slade said, but what he did. And over the next few minutes, he paid quite a lot attention to how Slade and Meg interacted together, the way Meg anticipated what Slade was about to ask for … the quiet protectiveness Slade showed her, angling his body to shield her whenever his father made a pointed comment about something in her house that he disapproved of.

Which told Oliver two things … number one, Meg earned Slade's trust and protectiveness. He didn't know how, and it really didn't matter, because that was between them. Number two, when he finally had his older brother to himself, he had some serious teasing in store for Slade. Much to his astonishment, it was actually Meg who provided that time by observing, "Dad, we were planning to head to the youth center today … if you want to come, you should probably put warmer clothes on. Grant, Angel, you two need to get changed as well. Grant … I think William would be interested in seeing your room. I'm sure he's never met anyone who had a bedroom in a basement … or maybe he has. I need a shower before we go. Slade, this'll give you a chance to catch up with Oliver. Just … ahhh … don't break anything, okay?"

Slade responded with a mock-disgruntled, "Once. That happened once … Ms. I'll-Use-A-Crystal-Paperweight-As-A-Weapon, and we cleaned it up immediately … besides, you said you never liked that particular item." Meg's brows arched, her lips twitched and Oliver could almost hear her '_not the point_.' Evidently, so did Slade, for he added almost hastily, "But that was _very_ resourceful … and I promise, no wrestling matches in the living room. If we do any sparring, it'll be outside." With the fathers and the sons dismissed, Grant grabbed William's wrist and tugged him toward parts unknown, de Vries and Slade's own father retreated to wherever they were staying, while Meg and her daughter disappeared to opposite ends of the house. Oliver didn't miss the way Slade switched his attention back and forth between his son and Meg until both were out of sight, but never spoke, never made a sound of any kind.

Which meant Oliver got to play the annoying little brother, asking, "So … how hard have you fallen for her?" It was deliberately provocative, and Slade glared at him briefly. But then he sighed and rose to his feet, picking up the dirty dishes and stacking them neatly in the kitchen sink. Oliver didn't say anything more … he had the sense that Slade was trying to work something out in his mind. So, he stayed quiet, keeping his eyes on his brother (his brother, he finally had Slade back … even after working together on Lian Yu and Kasnia, he still couldn't quite believe that he had his brother back).

After several moments, Slade turned to face him once more, leaning back against the sink, and answered quietly, "I kissed her last night." Oliver nearly dropped his orange juice glass, staring at Slade in astonishment. Wait, what? Slade smiled a bit at Oliver's shock before continuing, "It was on the forehead, when we were saying good-night. Nothing romantic about it, no grand passionate gestures. But I …" He shook his head and looked away, before looking down at his feet. His head still bowed, Slade said hoarsely, "I don't know that I've fallen for her, kid … but I think I'd tear the world apart if anything happened to her or Angel, much less Grant. And the madness has passed, but some of the Mirukuru remains."

That part, Oliver knew … Slade healed far more rapidly after being tortured in the days leading up to Grant's rescue. At last, his old friend looked up at him and asked quietly, "How do I trust myself again, after what I did when we lost Shado? And if she's been watching over me, over us, all this time, how in the hell can she be proud of me, after what I did to you, what I did to your family, to your city?" Oliver briefly considered reminding Slade of what he said on Lian Yu about forgiving himself … but as he well knew, trust and forgiveness wasn't the same thing.

"Maybe because she's seen how far you fell … and how you climbed your way back up to the man who meant everything to us both," Oliver answered honestly. A derisive sound emerged from Slade, but Oliver insisted, "You meant a lot to her, Slade." He didn't say that just because she didn't love him the way he loved her, didn't mean her feelings were any less real. He was fairly sure Slade knew that. Instead, he went on, "If she's been watching over us all along, then she saw everything. She saw every time we fell and every time we got back up again, every time we clawed our way back up. Slade … how much does Meg know?"

"Not everything, but enough … enough to realize that I'm dangerous. There's a police officer here in town … I'm responsible for the death of his mother-in-law and the trauma of his daughter," Slade answered quietly. Oliver winced, because ow. He didn't know what to say to that, even though his own past came up to bite him in the ass at least as often as Slade's did to him. Maybe that was why he couldn't think of anything to say, because he knew what it felt like.

Instead, he asked, "Tell me about this incident you mentioned, when she used a crystal souvenir as a weapon?" As he hoped, Slade laughed and sat down opposite Oliver once more, his brown eye reflecting amusement. Oliver released a quiet sigh of relief, because they were heading into waters that made him extremely uncomfortable. Ask him to deal with Malcolm Merlyn (and oh, he still had so much to unpack where his godfather was concerned), with Ra's Al Ghul, with Damien Darke and he was fine. Talking about feelings or why Slade should totally try for his sweet-faced hostess? Yeah, no.

"That actually happened recently, when our fathers arrived. We'd spent the entire morning working and ended up falling asleep on the couch. The kids were still outside, supposedly cleaning up, but actually playing and greeted them when they arrived. My father decided it was a good idea to bellow at us both to wake us … and each of us grabbed the nearest item as a weapon. In Meg's case, that was a lead crystal statuette that her late husband bought for her as a souvenir," Slade answered with a wry grin.

Oliver couldn't help himself … he burst out laughing, just as the woman in question returned, attired in sandy brown leggings, a furry parka, and well-worn hiking boots. Her (currently wet) dark hair had been pulled away from her face into what Thea would call a half-bun. She offered Slade a mock-glower, saying, "You just couldn't wait to tell him about that, could you, Slade?" Oliver's brother smirked at her in response and Meg rolled her eyes in fond exasperation, turning her attention to Oliver as she added, "I can fire my husband's old service revolver … take it out and clean it once a week, assuming Slade doesn't need to do it for his own peace of mind … but it never occurred to claim competency with a statuette that Stephen gave me."

"Anything can be a weapon," Oliver pointed out, "you just have to use what you have available to you. And I, for one, would be very wary of a barely-awake woman threatening me with anything made of lead crystal." Meg blushed, but didn't argue. Seconds later, Grant and William were clattering their way upstairs, Oliver's son chattering excitedly about whatever he'd seen in the basement. They were followed into the kitchen by Angel, now wearing jeans, a sweater and an indulgent smile, the very picture of the loving but exasperated older sister.

Oliver still hadn't any idea of what to do about what he knew … what he'd seen on Lian Yu, years ago. On the one hand, he knew that keeping this particular secret would end up hurting Slade, and that was the last thing he wanted. They'd hurt each other enough. On the other hand … on the other hand, what could he really tell Slade? That he'd seen his father there, in the time Slade was lost to the Mirukuru? He couldn't tell Slade why his father was there or any of the details Slade would need to know.

And yet … and yet … and yet. Slade was free of the curse of Mirukuru, but Oliver could never stop thinking about Ivo and keeping the truth of Shado's death a secret. The circumstance were far different, but … Oliver shook his head. He would figure this out. He would not lose his brother because of secrets, not again.

As it turned out … it wasn't something he would need to worry about.

DSDSDSDSDSDS

"He recognized you."

They had just gotten back inside their apartment, as they'd taken to calling it, when Bastiaan uttered those words. Gideon was already halfway across the room, searching for proper clothing. He didn't answer, not right away. Bastiaan, of course, remembered hearing of Gideon's visit to Lian Yu … he should hope so, he only learned of it only the previous day. It seemed that what neither of them realized was that on that particular day, Oliver Queen was also there. This … could create issues. Something Gideon realized as well, as the other man inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Both men were silent as they changed into warmer clothes. Gideon mulling over … something, while Bastiaan had his own concerns. Namely, how Slade was going to learn about this. He just knew he wasn't going to tell the younger agent. He had too many secrets of his own. They both lied to their children, kept things from Meg and Slade, for more or less the same reason. They were both trying to protect their children, even now when they were not only adults, but survivors of their own separate traumas. No, Meg hadn't survived what Slade did, and Bastiaan would never dream of saying she had.

But she survived her own traumas … her mother's erratic behavior when she was a child, the loss of her husband when she was an adult. The point was, he knew he lied to his daughter and kept things from her. He'd also done things he wasn't entirely proud of in order to protect her (blackmailing Amanda Waller with the evidence that she actually cared about something other than herself was on that list. He would never forget the look of delight on the young woman's face when she realized that she might actually have leverage on him upon learning of Meg's existence, and could never forget the look of horror a moment later when she also realized that he had his own leverage on her).

At last, Gideon said quietly, "Last night, while you were snoring loud enough to raise the dead, I went down and talked to the lad." Bastiaan ignored the blatant lie about him snoring, aside from an arch of his eyebrows. Gideon scowled but continued, "He has very … he kissed your daughter last night." Bastiaan froze, because he wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. As it turned out, nothing, because Gideon went on, "It was a platonic kiss to her forehead when they wished each other good night … but it completely wrong-footed them both."

Ja, he could imagine … Bastiaan wasn't sure if he should say anything to Meg about it, and if he did say something, what it would be. She wasn't a child, after all … well, she was _his_ child, but she wasn't a little girl, not anymore. The time for that particular conversation had come and went, and Bastiaan had come to terms with that years earlier. At least, he thought he had … but much to his chagrin, he was struggling with the desire to head back downstairs and demand to know what Slade's intentions were toward Meg.

And that would be … unhelpful. To say the least. So, instead of dealing with that right now, he asked, "What else?" Gideon turned to look at him, and Bastiaan went on, "There's more to this than your son kissing my daughter, and both of them being surprised by it. There was no discomfort between them this morning at breakfast, and believe me, I was paying far more attention to my daughter than I was to Mayor Queen. So what else is going on?" Gideon sighed as he finished adding an extra layer of clothes.

"Slade's concern … or rather, one of Slade's biggest concerns … is that he's known your Meg a short amount of time. And yet, when I questioned him about things he knew about her, he answered immediately. In a matter of weeks, Slade has learned more about your daughter than I ever knew about his mother. And, I suspect, more than he ever knew about Adeline. He didn't even have to think about it," Gideon answered. Well … that was interesting. The other man added, "He also admitted, without ever saying the words, that he's very protective of her, and Angel."

That was actually very reassuring to Bastiaan. He knew that his daughter could take care of herself and Angel, for the most part … during their short marriage, and in the months leading up to his departure to Destine, his late son-in-law taught Meg some self-defense, and Slade had been teaching her things that Stephen hadn't. But they were both losing sight of one particularly important thing, something that Bastiaan now reminded his friend, "That's all well and good … but it isn't our responsibility to sort the love lives of our children. That's something they have to work out for themselves. I know … I know. Both of us feel like we've let our children down, and we want to help them now. But we can't. This is something they have to do."

"You didn't let your child down … you didn't even know she existed. I did. So many times. But not again. Never again," Gideon swore. Bastiaan had the un-nerving sense that rather than talk his partner down, he'd just made things worse. The trouble was, he had no idea how, or how he could prevent the looming disaster this partner was about to unleash (he couldn't).

TBC


End file.
